


I'll Be Home for Christmas

by SPowell



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, bottom!Arthur, break-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:12:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two years since Merlin left, and his return to the University of Camelot brings a barrage of memories of Arthur and everything they had together.<br/>Christmas is the most painful time of year for Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Home for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spaceAltie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceAltie/gifts).



> I've done my best to make this something that meets my recipient's wishes. Some things I didn't set out to write, but you know how that goes! Happy Christmas, spacealtie!

 

 

 

 

It’s relatively quiet in the university flat, so late that most residents have gone to bed.

Merlin watches, pencil poised above paper, concentration broken for the moment by the ripple of muscle beneath the skin of Lance’s back as he bends to add powder to the dishwasher before closing the door and switching it on. Lance wears only a pair of navy boxers, showing off his long, legs and bare feet.

Giving up on studying, Merlin tosses the pencil down and leans his head back against the wall. As he continues to watch Lance move about the tiny kitchen, Merlin’s suddenly accosted by a memory so intense, it brings goose flesh to his arms.

_Merlin presses Arthur down onto the kitchen table, sprinkling kisses to the arch of Arthur’s foot, listening to the filthy moan it elicits as he slowly eases inside Arthur’s body. Arthur arcs upward, mouth open, blue eyes half-shut and staring at Merlin as though he’s everything there is._

“Merlin?” Lance’s solid hand on Merlin’s shoulder breaks him out of his memories.

“Hm?” Merlin looks up into Lance’s eyes.

“You were somewhere far off,” Lance says, running his fingers through Merlin’s hair.

Merlin smiles. “I’m tired, I guess.” He closes his text books and rubs his eyes.

“Let’s go to bed, then,” Lance suggests, holding out his hand, and Merlin readily takes it, allowing Lance to tug him down the hall and into the small bedroom where he pauses to kiss Merlin in the doorway, erection eagerly pressing into Merlin’s thigh.

Merlin isn’t in the mood tonight. The unexpected memory from moments before has left him disconcerted. He pulls away from Lance with some regret, because Lance drives an hour on weekends to stay with Merlin and doesn’t deserve to be turned away.

“I’m sorry. I’m just really knackered. Here…” He nudges Lance back toward the bed, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of Lance’s boxers and pushing them down. Merlin kneels. “Let me take care of you.” He smiles impishly before dipping his head.

It isn’t long before Lance tugs on Merlin’s hair in warning, and Merlin pulls off, watching Lance come into his hand.  Lance eases off the bed and heads into the bathroom to clean up before returning to switch off the lamp and lie down beside Merlin.

Listening to Lance’s breathing evening out in the darkness, Merlin rolls over and stares at the wall. He tells himself that he’s happy; he’s never felt better. He’s at a turning point in his life, and he can feel it. 

But the truth is that the moment Merlin returned to Camelot University, memories have been everywhere, accosting him during his most unguarded moments-- Memories so sharp they both wound and move him in their intensity, only to leave him breathless when they abandon him again.

And Merlin can no longer deny what he left behind.

___000___

Arthur turns the corner, head down, not paying much attention to where he’s going. It’s a cool night, and he’s got another one of his headaches. The latest contract on his desk has his stomach in knots as it’s become clear it won’t be ready by deadline, and Arthur’s father will have his arse, no doubt.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

The shout abruptly brings Arthur’s head up to survey his surroundings.

_How the hell did he get here?_

He’s in a seedy part of Camelot, full of pubs and strip clubs, hookers and rent boys at every corner. Arthur blinks uncertainly before looking toward the street and the possibility of a taxi.

“Hey, sweetheart, looking for a little action?” a male voice asks. Arthur glances over, and for a brief moment his heart stills in his chest. The man is so like _him_ at first glance that Arthur can’t breathe for a moment.

But when the young man smiles, it isn’t the toothy grin that Arthur remembers, and the eyes don’t crinkle at the edges. And on closer inspection, they aren’t blue.

Arthur shakes his head. “No,” he says hoarsely. “No.” He walks away, stepping off the curb and raising his hand for a taxi.

“Too bad,” he hears the boy say. “For you I might’ve even done it for free.”

Arthur sighs with relief when he’s settled in the cab, the city passing by the window. He’d thought a walk would do him good, but how he’d ever walked that far from his company building without realizing it, he doesn’t know.

He’s been getting more and more absent-minded lately; everyone’s been noticing it. And the migraines have become almost unbearable. He reaches up and presses his fingers to his temples, willing away the pain and the flashes of light behind his eyes, nausea rising in his throat. He swallows, tamping it down as the cab pulls to the curb.

Arthur pays the driver and gets out, hurrying to the parking garage and his VW Golf. His mobile rings, and he fumbles for it.

“Hello?”

“You home yet, mate?”

“Leon,” Arthur starts the car, blue tooth in his ear. “No, just leaving the office.”

“Arthur, it’s eleven o’clock!”

“I had a lot to do.”

“I left you at six, and you said you were going home!”

“I’m the president of the company,” Arthur points out, turning his car onto the street. “Things come up.”

Leon’s sigh is audible. “Well. I wanted to let you know I won’t be by there tomorrow with those legal briefs like I said I would. I have work to do at Avalon, and I forgot Sefa’s parents are in town. I promised to meet them.”

Arthur tries, but he can’t speak past the sudden lump in his throat.

“Arthur? Fuck.”

Arthur clears his throat. “Sorry, mate, got into some traffic there.” Arthur sails through yet another light on the barren street.

“Right. Arthur, I wish you’d talk to me about this. You said you were okay about it, but it’s obvious you’re not…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Leon. I want you to be happy. Listen, I have to go. I’ll see you in the morning. Come in after lunch if you want.” Arthur ends the call before his voice breaks.

___000___

 

Course work seems a bit easier now that Merlin’s older. He doesn’t get that feeling of being stretched in many different directions that he had before, when he was trying to juggle everything on top of keeping the secret of being gay from his family while being out and proud with Arthur at uni.

Before Arthur, Merlin had dated Freya, a nice, quiet, _safe_ girl who had similar interests to Merlin’s and whom Merlin had fond, if rather sisterly, feelings for. It pained Merlin that they were unable to even remain friends after their break-up, such was the intensity of Merlin’s sudden interest in Arthur. The man seemed to blot everything else out with his presence when he sailed into Merlin’s life like the sun on a cold dawn.

_“Who is that guy?” Merlin asks Daegal. The night air is warm, the drink in Merlin’s hand cool against his palm._

_Daegal looks around. “You mean him? The blond?”_

_Merlin nods. Who else could he mean? He’s fucking gorgeous! Ripped jeans, white shirt unbuttoned almost to his navel, blond hair hanging into deep, blue eyes. And, fuck, those red, pouty lips! Merlin’s been telling himself for years that his attraction to boys isn’t real, but he can’t deny his body’s reaction to this man._

_“That’s Arthur Pendragon, mate.” Daegal shrugs.“He’s rich as shite, and I’ve heard he likes blokes, though I’ve never seen him with one. Birds hang all over him.” Daegal moves away to get another drink._

_And then Freya’s at Merlin’s side, her small hand clutching his, but Merlin can’t keep his eyes off Arthur Pendragon. Finally Arthur, talking and laughing with his mates, turns and sees Merlin, eyes sweeping over him, not predatory, but speculating. Every hair on Merlin’s body rises in awareness. He’s clutching Freya’s hand so tightly, she squawks and pulls away with a protest._

_“Going to the loo,” Merlin mumbles to her, eyes breaking contact with Arthur’s at the last second as he turns and heads toward the buildings in the distance, away from the groups of students and their buzz of talk. He drops his drink in a convenient receptacle someone has placed at the edge of the common and leans against the warm brick of his building._

_He’s expecting it when Arthur’s voice sounds in his ear, but it still makes him jump._

_“I’m Arthur.”_

_Arthur’s so close, Merlin smells his expensive cologne and the beer on his breath._

_“Merlin,” Merlin answers, nervously clenching his fingernails into the palm of his hand._

_“I saw you looking at me.” To the point, and Merlin, used to skirting issues, isn’t sure what to say to that. He’s supposed to be straight, but the closeness of Arthur’s hot, fit body to his is sending his pulse rate soaring._

_“I wasn’t looking at you,” Merlin lies, and Arthur laughs, revealing white teeth and a tantalizing stretch of neck._

_“A bit full of yourself,” Merlin adds testily, and Arthur sobers, hands moving to Merlin’s jaw, thumb brushing Merlin’s lips. Merlin licks them, inadvertently tasting Arthur’s thumb in the process. Merlin’s eyes skitter to meet Arthur’s. Heart beating wildly in his chest, Merlin opens his lips and slowly takes Arthur’s thumb into his mouth, sucking it provocatively in the first outwardly homosexual gesture of his life._

_Seconds later, Arthur’s face is losing focus as he leans in to kiss Merlin, and Merlin tries to backpedal, telling Arthur he isn’t gay, but Arthur only chuckles low in his throat._

_“Whatever you say,” and then his soft mouth is on Merlin’s, and Merlin melts into him, arms coming around Arthur’s hard body, hands landing on and gripping his pert arse. He pulls Arthur closer, and Arthur presses Merlin against the brick building. Arthur deepens the kiss, tongue moving in to explore the inside of Merlin’s mouth. Merlin’s so hard, he can’t think, and he pushes against Arthur, moving slightly until he feels the answering rigid line of Arthur’s erection against his thigh._

_It makes Merlin lose his breath for a moment before he tentatively reaches between them and strokes Arthur through his jeans._

_Arthur’s response is strong and immediate. He sucks in a breath, nipping at Merlin’s lips and then sucking on his tongue. Arthur lifts Merlin up so that Merlin wraps his legs around Arthur’s waist and coils his hands around Arthur’s neck, answering Arthur’s kisses hungrily. Kissing a man is so much better than kissing a woman, Merlin decides, dizzy with arousal. Having a man’s hard body against his own does things to Merlin that he can’t name, but he knows he wants more. He suddenly realizes he’s making noises that would be embarrassing if he could be bothered to care._

_“Come to my room,” he invites a little brokenly. “No one’s there.”_

_Arthur lets him down and they stumble into the building and upstairs, Merlin almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to get there._

_Inside his room, Merlin can’t get his hands on Arthur fast enough. He pushes up under the soft, thin, dove-grey T-shirt and maps the planes of Arthur’s chest with eager fingertips. Arthur flattens Merlin against the wall, kissing Merlin’s neck in a way that makes Merlin tingle with need. Then suddenly Arthur lowers himself to his knees before Merlin, tugging down Merlin’s jeans and pants, releasing Merlin’s throbbing cock to the open air._

_“Oh, fuck,” Merlin whines, overcome when Arthur grasps him and takes him into his mouth, opening his throat and encompassing Merlin in snug, wet heat. There are no words to describe how beautiful this man is kneeling before him. His gorgeous mouth is stretched around Merlin’s cock, golden hair falling into his eyes as he begins bobbing and sucking enthusiastically, filling Merlin with sensation that threatens to make him come on the spot. He’s not licking daintily like girls do, but feasting upon Merlin’s cock, and Merlin can’t stop staring. When Arthur pulls his mouth away and lifts Merlin’s cock up to take Merlin’s sack onto his tongue, Merlin moans, knocking his head against the wall._

_“Fuck, I am gay,” he groans, peeking back down blearily, not wanting to miss a moment of the scene before him. Arthur winks up at him, mouth busy, and at that, Merlin feels the first drops of pre-cum dribble out of him._

_Arthur begins licking, cat-like, at Merlin’s nuts, and they tighten, just before Merlin comes all over Arthur’s gorgeous face. It barely registers when Freya walks in, eyes worried, then horrified, then heart-broken, all in a matter of seconds before she runs from the room._

_And all Merlin can think is that it really is true._

_He’s gay. He likes blokes. He likes this bloke. Arthur. Arthur, Arthur, Arthur._

_And he can’t stop coming._

Being the boyfriend of a wealthy, handsome man like Arthur Pendragon, whose father was well-known in the community for both good and not-so-good reasons, had been a heavy weight in itself in that it made Merlin feel that all eyes were upon him and that there was some sort of persona he had to uphold. Whether Arthur realized that at the time or not, Merlin doesn’t know. Merlin’s pretty sure he yelled it at Arthur in that last, terrible fight… if you could even call it a fight. A fight takes two people, and the way Merlin remembers it, it was more just Merlin blurting it all out, followed by a lot of silence and a very stricken look on Arthur’s face that was soon replaced by a shut gate. In all fairness, Merlin’s pretty sure that was the first Arthur had heard of it; Merlin was good at putting up a façade. He’d been doing it his entire life.

And really, their relationship wasn’t all a bed of roses, at least, not at the beginning. Merlin might have had his big, gay epiphany with Arthur, but going from that to being comfortably homosexual wasn’t an easy road. The fact is, Merlin pretended most of the time to be comfortable, and that was a large part of the problem.

Merlin feels sure that a man like Arthur, so full of life and eager to share it, must be married and happy by now. When Merlin left, Arthur had been about to take his dream job working with underprivileged kids at the foster home run by his older sister, Morgana, bringing all his studies in social work to fruition and throwing his wealthy father’s expectations in his face. Merlin had been proud of him, although he stops to wonder now if he ever told Arthur that.

Still, it would make Merlin feel better to know that Arthur is all right. He’s wondered about him many times over the past two years. He even called Arthur a few weeks after leaving, but Arthur changed his mobile number.

Merlin didn’t remain in contact with anyone from uni after he left; he’d been too upset and consumed with his own problems. Those people remain frozen in his mind from a time that’s set apart for Merlin as unlike any other time in his life.

That’s why he’s so surprised to run into Gwen when he walks into the students’ union late in November. For Merlin, it’s like the past colliding with the present.

“Merlin!” She looks just as shocked to see him.

“Hi, Gwen,” he says, shifting his books and looking her over. She’s changed very little in the two years since he’s seen her. Her hair is shorter, and she’s dressed professionally rather than in the flowing, bohemian-style clothing she used to favour, but her eyes remain windows to her thoughts, and her wide mouth quick to smile.

“What are you doing here?” Gwen asks him, moving out of the flow of the crowd. She’s holding a take-out cup in one hand and car keys in the other.

“I’ve come back to get my post graduate degree,” Merlin replies. “Finally. How about you?”

“I just met my friend for lunch and now I’m headed back to work,” Gwen replies. “She’s secretary to the Dean of Graduate Studies. Elena Brighten. You might remember her; I hung out with her some when you were here. Long blonde hair…kind of clumsy.”

Merlin nods. “Yeah, nice girl.”

Gwen shifts uncertainly, biting the corner of her lip. She takes a large breath and lets it out. “How have you been? It’s been a long time.”

“Yes,” Merlin agrees, relieved that Gwen isn’t running off. She was always more Arthur’s friend than Merlin’s, and he supposes Arthur’s friends saw Merlin’s departure as a betrayal. He only said a few hurried goodbyes to Gwen and the others before he left town.

“I’ve been all right. Took a while to straighten myself out, but I’ve done it. Stayed with my friend in Italy most of the time.” Merlin wants so much to ask about Arthur. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but he just can’t do it. Doesn’t feel it’s his right anymore.

“Italy…that sounds nice. How’s your mum?”

“She’s good. I finally told her I’m gay,” Merlin replies, a sense of calm washing over him that brings a smile to his face and a surprising answering smile to Gwen’s.

“That’s wonderful, Merlin,” she says warmly before suddenly and awkwardly looking away. “You know, I never realized that she didn’t know. Before. I hadn’t known you were…still in the closet.”

Merlin looks at his feet. “Yeah, well. I didn’t talk about it.” Slightly younger than the others, Merlin hadn’t run with Arthur’s crowd. Gwen didn’t know Freya or any of Merlin’s other friends. When Merlin started dating Arthur, Merlin was suddenly cast into their world, and he played the part well until he couldn’t anymore.

“Are you living on campus?”

“In the campus flats, yes,” Merlin replies. “Do you live nearby as well?”

“I have a small house not too far away,” Gwen answers. “It’s not much. I share it with Elena.”

Merlin nods.

Gwen looks at her watch. “Well, I’m running late. I’ll see you around, Merlin, I’m sure.” She pauses a moment, watching him as though waiting.

“It’s good to see you again, Gwen.” He smiles, waving as she goes.

It had been the perfect opportunity to ask about Arthur, and it was obvious Gwen expected him to. Why didn’t he?

_Because he’s scared, and because it hurts. Because he feels guilty that he’s back here and in a relationship—the kind of relationship that Arthur wanted and Merlin wouldn’t give him. Couldn’t give him at the time. And because he’s afraid of hearing about Arthur and the new relationship he’s undoubtedly in by now._

 

___000___

 

“Arthur, if you don’t get your head out of the clouds, you’re going to cost the company dearly.” Uther’s voice is cold steel over the speaker on Arthur’s desk.

“Father, it was one error. Debra caught it, and everything’s fine,” Arthur says tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingertips.

“All it takes is one error, Arthur. We can’t afford errors. You are my son, and when I made you head of this company, I expected more from you.”

“You expect perfection!” Arthur grounds out from between his teeth, head pounding.

“Yes!” Uther ends the call.

Arthur sits staring out the window at the view of downtown Camelot, the university just visible in the distance. Every time he sees it, it brings back such painful memories that Arthur’s stomach hurts in reaction.

Even after two fucking years.

He leans forward and shuts the blinds, casting the room into near darkness. He switches on his desk lamp.

Glancing at his mobile, Arthur sees he has several text messages, three of them from Gwaine.

**_You would like Dylan’s brother. Meet us at Benchley’s?_ **

Dammit, Gwaine’s trying to fix him up again.

**_You need a good fuck, at least._ **

**_Come on, mate!_ **

Arthur texts back that he’s busy.

Gwaine’s answer is immediate.

**_Liar. But I still love you._ **

Arthur can’t date again. He can’t. At first he thought he was just being silly, that it was just the burn of break up and that it would wear off, but now he really thinks he’ll never be able to be with another man like that again. He’s still raw, even after all this time. He gave Merlin his everything—fell hard and fast, opening himself up only to have it all thrown back at him in the end. And he’ll never do it again, not ever.

___000___

 

 

Merlin and Lance eat out at a local restaurant. Merlin’s insides are warmed by wine and good food, and Lance has his arm wrapped around him and his lips pressed to Merlin’s temple as they finish their coffee and dessert in their private booth in the corner.

“Look at that,” Lance says into Merlin’s skin. Lance is incredibly touchy-feely. At the beginning of their relationship, Merlin liked it, but now he’s finding it a little confining. He’d like his personal space sometimes. “I want one of those.”

Merlin looks at the cherubic face of a baby boy in the highchair nearby. The baby is laughing at something as only infants can. For a moment, Merlin feels the pull of the domestic scene.

Lance’s arm tightens around Merlin, his voice low and intimate in Merlin’s ear. “Can’t you see us married one day? And adopting?”

Merlin’s suddenly no longer interested in the cheesecake that was so delicious only a moment before. He puts his fork down.

“Merlin?”

Merlin stares, another, long ago scene forming in his mind.

_Arthur’s face, pink from the cold and lit up like the Christmas tree in the corner of the tiny house._

_“Do you like it?”_

_“Arthur, you bought yourself a house?”_

_“I bought_ us _a house,_ Mer _lin! Now do you like it, or not? Look around. It even has a study so you can sit for hours going over those awful medieval papers you so enjoy staring at. Merlin? Merlin, for heaven’s sake, say something!”_

“Merlin? Say something,” Lance’s words slice through Merlin’s thoughts.

“Let’s go home,” Merlin says, sliding out of Lance’s arms and leaving the booth.

~~~

“Did I upset you earlier?” Lance asks after he’s pulled out of Merlin and helped to clean him up. Merlin is a riot of feelings at the moment and quite frankly only wants to roll over and go to sleep. Or at least pretend to. He hadn’t even wanted to have sex, but he couldn’t turn down Lance. He’d been doing that too often lately.

“When?” He feigns ignorance.

“In the restaurant, when I said something about marriage and adoption. I’m sorry; it’s too soon.”

“It _is_ too soon,” Merlin answers. “But no, you didn’t upset me. Forget about it.” He pulls on his pyjama bottoms and turns out the light.

They’re silent for a few beats. Lance finds Merlin’s hand in the dark and squeezes it apologetically. Merlin squeezes back.

Lance yawns. “God, I hope the airport isn’t like it was last week—was there a full moon?”

Lance begins telling Merlin about several bizarre incidents that happened at work where he manages security at Heathrow, and Merlin finds his mind drifting.

He’s a little sore. Lance, in his lustful haste, didn’t quite prepare Merlin enough. Merlin doesn’t blame Lance,---Lance asked if he was ready, and Merlin really just wanted to get it all over with. Truth be told, he doesn’t much care for being a bottom. He’s still new to this, only ever had one serious relationship before, in which he was always a top except for a few experimental times in which he asked Arthur to fuck him, and that, of course, brings his thoughts barreling back to Arthur.

Merlin sighs at the memory of nights plunging into Arthur’s heat, the feel of Arthur’s hands clutching Merlin’s shoulders as though he’d never let go, mouth seeking Merlin’s hungrily.

Merlin feels himself getting hard, something he didn’t fully do during his fuck with Lance in spite of Lance’s various attempts to make him so, and he shifts his leg under the blanket. Thankfully, Lance doesn’t notice. He’s laughing at his own tale, and Merlin dutifully smiles in the half-darkness, the only light in the room coming from the emergency lamp on the corner of the roof outside shining through the too-thin curtains. Merlin really needs to get some blinds, he thinks.

When they turn to settle into a comfortable position for sleep, Lance pressed to Merlin’s back, Lance reaches inside Merlin’s pants, delighted to find him half-hard. He begins to stroke Merlin, tongue licking inside Merlin’s ear. Merlin breathes in, closing his eyes, but his thoughts are not of Lance.

_“You like this, Arthur?” He watches his dick slide between Arthur’s round, white cheeks, disappearing inside him, feels the tight, hot clench, the impossible frisson of pleasure up his spine._

_“Fuck, yes,” Arthur breathes, blond head bent between taut shoulders as he braces himself against the headboard. “Love you so much, Merlin. Fuck me harder. Please…just, please.”_

It takes only seconds for Merlin to come all over Lance’s hand.

___000___

 

_“You are so whipped,” Morgana teases, staring at Arthur over her chunky black glasses._

_“You have absolutely no room to talk.” Arthur grins fondly at his twin before moving off the corner of his desk._

_Mogana smiles, patting her large, pregnant belly. “I can’t wait for the baby to come. If it’s a boy, we’re naming him Arthur.”_

_Arthur is momentarily struck dumb. He stares at her, fighting the tears that want to creep into his eyes. Tears are a sign of weakness, and he hates appearing weak. “Let’s hope it’s a girl, then,” he finally says, and Morgana laughs._

_“No, I hope it’s a boy.” She gets up, not without some trouble. “Leon does, too, I think.” She sighs, coming to stand in front of Arthur. She takes his hands. “Only a few more months and you’ll have your master’s degree and you can finally come work here with us. Won’t it be lovely?”_

_“If Father doesn’t kill me first,” Arthur smiles wryly._

_“Sure, he’ll be furious, but he’ll get over it, Arthur,” Morgana looks into his eyes. “This is your life. You deserve to be happy, and you’re doing the right thing. You’re wonderful with these kids.” She squeezes his fingers before letting go of his hands. Arthur thinks, not for the first time, that if it weren’t for Morgana’s touches, he’d never have known affection in his childhood. He loves her with a fierceness that scares him sometimes. The only feeling that’s ever compared to it is what he feels for Merlin._

_As though reading his mind, Morgana asks, “Where’s Merlin?”_

_“Classes,” Arthur answers._

_“I hope he’ll be joining us for dinner,” Morgana pouts, just as Leon walks into the room._

_“What’s the pout for?” Leon wraps his arms around her, burying his nose into her neck._

_“Your wife has a crush on my boyfriend,” Arthur teases. “Don’t worry, Morgana. Merlin will be joining us for dinner,” Arthur assures her. “By the way, did you talk to your friend about the house?”_

_Morgana grins. “Yes! Oh, Arthur! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. She says the owner’s willing to sell!”_

_Arthur’s heart flutters in his chest. Ever since he first laid eyes on the little cottage, so close to both the Boys’ Home and the museum, he’d done nothing but picture himself and Merlin living in it. “Really?”_

_Morgana nods excitedly. “I’ve set up a meeting with her tomorrow.”_

_Leon’s smiling, too. “Does that mean the two of you will be moving in together?”_

_“This is a secret, Leon,” Morgana admonishes. “No telling!”_

_“Okay, okay. When are we eating? I’m starved.”_

_Morgana begins teasing Leon about his limitless appetite, but Arthur doesn’t hear her words; he’s too excited by his own thoughts._

The phone rings and Arthur blinks, finding himself staring into the empty corner where two years ago stood a Christmas tree he painstakingly put up himself and decorated for Merlin to see when he surprised him with the house.

He pulls himself off the sofa and begins searching for his mobile, various dark emotions crowding his chest.

“Hello?” he answers when he finally finds it wedged in his briefcase between two binders.

“Arthur, did you forget you were coming to eat?” Gwen’s voice sounds worried.

Arthur looks at his watch. “Shit. Sorry, Gwen. I…fell asleep on the couch.”

“Oh, well, that’s all right.” Gwen doesn’t sound as though she believes him. “Come ahead now.”

“I think it’s a bit late for that, but thanks anyway, Gwen, really. I’m sorry,” Arthur says.

“Arthur, I know you aren’t eating right, and Elena and I have this big meal…”

“Really, I’m not a child,” Arthur sighs. “I’m fine.”

“I know you aren’t a child, but you don’t take care of yourself!”

“I do, I’m eating now.” Arthur shoves a piece of bread from a plate of yesterday’s lunch—or was it Tuesday’s breakfast?-- into his mouth and chews, and he hears Gwen muttering under her breath.

“You’re impossible. See you at work tomorrow.” She ends the call.

Arthur spits the bread into the sink and goes to take a shower.

___000___

Merlin maneuvers his way through Tesco after having found the correct size blinds and put them in his cart. Lance left that morning, and Merlin can’t help but feel guilty at the relief it brings. Lance is a great person; yet, as time goes on, Merlin finds himself emotionally drifting away from him rather than gravitating toward him. This isn’t fair to Lance, particularly with the miles he’s putting in coming to visit Merlin every weekend, and Merlin wonders what to do about it. Lance doesn’t seem to notice the signs, simply bounding through the weekends, reminding Merlin a bit of a loyal dog, eager to please, oblivious of everything except for immediate pleasure.

Merlin heads for the last aisle he needs, perusing the shelves until he sees the lube, his mind _again_ flashing on Arthur and the expensive stuff he used to buy at some speciality shop. He’s got to stop thinking of Arthur.

“Merlin?”

He’s just got the box in his hands when he hears the familiar voice and turns to find Gwen behind him.

“Oh, hello.” Merlin can’t help it; he blushes crimson, dropping the lubricant in his cart as though it burns him. Gwen follows its descent with her eyes.

“How are your classes going?” she asks, looking away. It’s the weekend, and she’s dressed casually in jeans and a jumper, sans makeup, her curly dark hair pulled away from her face by an elastic band.

“Good,” Merlin answers. “I’m working really hard.”

Gwen bites her lip, seeming unsure. “What about Christmas? Going back to visit your mum and uncle?”

Merlin shakes his head. “Not enough time.”

“Well, would you like to come to a little party Elena and I are giving next weekend?”

Merlin hadn’t realized Christmas was creeping up so fast. “Uh, sure. That sounds nice.”

“Will you be bringing a plus one?” Gwen’s eyes head toward Merlin’s cart where the lube has landed beside a box of condoms before detouring to her own full cart.

Merlin colours, thinking about it. He’s got to do something about Lance. “I don’t think so,” he tells her.

“Okay, then.” Gwen smiles. “Here, let me put my number into your mobile.”

~~~

“So you don’t want me to come this weekend?” Lance asks over the phone, confusion and hurt evident in his voice.

“I just have a lot of course work and not much time to spend with you,” Merlin lies, hating himself for it. Why can’t he just tell the truth? He needs some time apart.

“But I don’t mind that, Merlin,” Lance answers. “I just want to be there with you.”

 _Fuck._ “I’m feeling kind of crappy, Lance.” Not a total lie. “Really. I’ll see you next weekend.”

True to Lance’s nature, he bounces back almost immediately, telling Merlin to feel better soon, and then, like a knife to the gut, that he loves him.

Merlin ends the call, and face plants on his kitchen table.

He’s a horrible person, clearly a disaster at relationships. He botched up his first and _best_ , and now he’s making sure this one doesn’t work.

Merlin sits up, a piece of notebook paper sticking to his face. He peels it off and rubs his hands over his skin, still sleep-warm.

_That’s really the problem here, isn’t it, Emrys? The relationship with Arthur. It was so good, and you weren’t ready for it, and you left it and you left him, and you’ve regretted it, deep down, ever since. And now here you are, back exactly where you were two years ago, only older and wiser, and you’re ready for that happy-ever-after._

_But Arthur’s gone, and you’ve missed your chance._

 

__000__

Arthur stares at the cup of coffee that Gwen places in front of him and then up at Gwen herself.

“More coffee?” he asks. “I don’t remember asking for more coffee.” He frowns.

“You didn’t, but you look like you can use some,” Gwen answers.

Arthur rubs his temple with a finger. He’s getting another migraine. They’re always worse this time of year. He reaches for the cup.

“Maybe so. Thank you. Do you have any pain reliever in your purse? I’m out.”

“I’ll look.” Gwen retreats to the outer offices and returns a moment later with a small bottle. Spilling a few pills into her palm, she offers them to Arthur, who takes them thankfully.

“Elena and I are having a Christmas party this weekend,” Gwen says suddenly after Arthur swallows the pills with coffee. “Please come.”

He looks up at her, surprised. “That’s kind of you, Gwen. I’ll check my schedule.”

“I’ve already checked. You’re free.”

Arthur leans back in his chair, which squeaks, making his head pound. “My father may have something at home…”

“Arthur, we both know your father’s in the States, and he won’t celebrate Christmas,” Gwen says softly. “Not since ...”

Arthur stiffens.

“I’m sorry,” Gwen says.

“I’m not up to celebrating either,” Arthur tells her, staring morosely at the polished cherry wood of his desk.

Gwen straightens her shoulders. “Arthur, do you remember when your father asked you to babysit his girlfriend Catrina’s schnauzer for the weekend and you showed up at my door with it at one in the morning, promising me anything if I would do it for you?”

Arthur slides his eyes up to look at her. The little dog would not stop yapping, and Arthur’s head had been about to explode. “Yes, of course.”

“It barked for two nights straight, peed in my favorite handbag, chewed up my Gucci shoes, and threw up something vile on my pillow. I’m calling in the favour. You’re coming to my party, Saturday at seven. Plan on spending the night, and bring lots of alcohol.” She turns abruptly and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

Arthur sighs and slumps back into his chair. He fucking hates Christmas. He begins to curse, focusing his anger on Catrina’s dog and the inconvenience it’s caused him.

“Talking to yourself again, mate? That’s pretty weird,” Gwaine takes a seat on the corner of Arthur’s desk. Arthur doesn’t even remember him walking into his office.

Gwaine is dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, his longish dark hair pulled into a ponytail.

“Change out of that monkey suit and come play footie with me and the kids. I’m headed back to Avalon now.”

“I have work to do, Gwaine.” Arthur rearranges the stacks of paper on his desk. “Plus it’s fucking freezing outside.”

Gwaine clicks his tongue. “Language, Arthur! Your gutter tongue is getting bad. We’ll have to start a swear jar.” He grins, and Arthur can’t help it; the corners of his own mouth turn up a bit.

“What do you want, Gwaine?” Arthur focuses on his friend’s endearingly unshaven face.

“I want you to get out of this office, get some fresh air, and have some fun.” Gwaine raises a dark brow. “I want you to come back to Avalon. It’s time.”

“I can’t,” Arthur says morosely, rubbing his still-throbbing temple.

“You mean you _won’t._ I think you enjoy having your father berate you all the time, like it’s some sort of hair shirt you wear.” Gwaine rolls his eyes and Arthur looks away, afraid Gwaine will see how close to the truth he really is.

“And why wouldn’t you meet me for drinks the other night?” Gwaine continues. “I swear, you might have actually liked Dylan’s brother.”

“I don’t want a relationship, Gwaine,” Arthur sighs.                                                                                      

Gwaine gets up and turns the lock on Arthur’s office door. “Probably for the best, since I broke up with Dylan soon afterward.”

Arthur raises a brow. “Why?”

“He’s too clingy. You know how I hate that.”

Gwaine comes to stand behind Arthur’s chair. Placing his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, he begins to rub them rhythmically. “You’re so tense,” he says softly. “Just relax.”

“Gwaine…”

“ _Relax,_ Arthur. Please. For me.”

Arthur drops his head, giving up. There’s no arguing with Gwaine when he’s intent upon something. Arthur gives himself over to sensation as Gwaine kneads Arthur’s tense muscles until he feels himself slowly relaxing, inch by inch, into his chair. He barely notices when Gwaine reaches down and begins unbuttoning Arthur’s dress shirt, and when Gwaine’s hot tongue meets Arthur’s neck, Arthur groans.

Over the years, Arthur and Gwaine have occasionally fucked when one or the other wasn’t involved with someone else. They’re mates, and it’s good between them. It doesn’t make things uncomfortable, it doesn’t complicate their friendship, and for one moment in time it softens the hurt that Arthur feels.

Gwaine spins Arthur around in his chair and looks him in the eye.

“Wanna fuck you over your desk, Pendragon,” he tells him, brown eyes soft but full of lust, and Arthur can’t think of one reason to object.

It’s hard and steady and exactly what Arthur needs. Arthur clings to the edges of his desk, expensive trousers pooled about his legs, staring at Gwaine’s gym shorts where they’ve landed on the edge of the leather chair in front of him as Gwaine rams into him from behind, cock grazing Arthur’s prostate on every in-stroke.

“Oofph!” Arthur grunts over and over again, pushing his arse up and back. “God, Gwaine, _shit!_ ” He presses his lips together.

“Take it, Arthur, you need it. _Fuck_ , you’re tight. Nothing’s been in that hole for a while. _Damn!_ ” Gwaine’s voice is gravelly and low, hitching as Arthur’s body squeezes around him.

Arthur’s breath stutters in his throat, climax coming on fast.

“Arthur?” Gwen knocks on the door.

“Shit!” Arthur breathes. “Give me a minute, Gwen!” He calls out, trying not to sound like he’s being pounded. “Come _on_ , Gwaine!” he whispers hoarsely, desperate for release. He closes his eyes, thinks of Merlin and the way he used to like to suck on Arthur’s toes as he slid in and out of him, how he sometimes fell asleep still buried inside Arthur, a proprietary hand on Arthur’s hip.

Arthur groans, and Gwaine props a foot on the bottom drawer of the desk, speeding up. Arthur reaches between his own legs and pulls on his cock, twisting his hand on the upstroke, and then he’s coming, the pleasure mingling with the lingering pain of his migraine, shivers running up his spine as he jerks back. Gwaine presses into Arthur, cursing as he comes, fingers gripping Arthur’s hips.

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur whispers, and hopes Gwaine doesn’t hear.

Arthur finds his orgasm helps his migraine. As he cleans himself up, watching Gwaine tie off the condom, he smiles at his friend.

“Thanks for that.”

Gwaine grins a bit wolfishly. “It wasn’t totally self-sacrificing. Felt like a vice in there.” He slips his shorts on and adjusts himself. “Gwen’s going to know what we’ve been up to.”

Arthur shrugs. “I caught her and Percy shagging on that couch once. She can’t say anything.”

Gwaine raises his brow. “Really? Little Gwen and Percy from security?”

Arthur nods. “I came back to the office late to get some papers. She was riding Percy like a pro.”

Gwaine makes an impressed face, looks Arthur over to make certain he’s decent, and unlocks the door. Gwen stands on the other side looking less than happy.

“Well, it’s about time,” she says, tapping her foot. “This is a place of business, you know.”

“Percy, eh?” Gwaine asks, smirking as he skirts past her; and Gwen’s cheeks suffuse with colour.

“Arthur!” she seethes, coming into his office as he seats himself at his desk, trying not to wince at the slight pain in his rump. “I can’t believe you told him that!”

“It just slipped, Gwen,” Arthur answers, giving her a small smile.

Gwen crosses her hands over her chest. “I don’t believe that for a moment.”

Arthur shrugs, grinning.

“Well,” Gwen softens a bit. “At least you seem to feel better. Here are the contracts your father wants you to sign.” She lays them on his desk. “Remember…Saturday at seven.”

“How can I forget?”

___000___

“Merlin? Is that you?”

Merlin turns around. He’d been tying his trainer on the park bench, about to take a run. He almost doesn’t recognize the woman behind him, she’s changed so much.

“Freya?” No longer so bird-like and shy, she’s filled out and blossomed in the past few years.

Freya gives Merlin a wide smile and nods. “It’s been a long time. How have you been?”

“I’ve been all right. Out of the country, actually. How are you?”

Freya beams. “I’m great. I got married, and I have a little girl. Her name is Alice.”

Merlin grins. “I’m really happy for you, Freya. I’ve always wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I was a real arse.”

Freya laughs.

“Seriously,” Merlin continues. “The only excuse I have is that I was so confused over my sexuality then. Or rather…determined to hide it when I first came to uni.”

“You were in love with Arthur,” Freya states.

“Yes,” Merlin agrees. “I was. And I couldn’t deny I was gay any longer after I met him.”

Freya tilts her head. “I kind of had my suspicions anyway,” she tells him.

“You did?” Merlin didn’t expect to hear that. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you were always more of a great friend to me than a boyfriend, Merlin. You weren’t exactly passionate.”

Merlin looks away. “I guess I wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing! You couldn’t help it. Why did you leave, anyway? I couldn’t believe it when I heard, although I didn’t know until long afterward.” She blushes. “If you don’t mind telling me, that is. After I got over finding you with him like I did, I kind of thought you and Arthur were perfect together.”

“You did?” Merlin asks.

Freya nods. “You seemed really happy. That’s why I couldn’t believe it when I heard you broke up.”

“I…” Merlin swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “I found out something about my past that threw me, and Arthur…well, he wanted to get serious, and I wasn’t ready. I panicked.”

Freya nods, her eyes suddenly lighting up as she spots something behind Merlin. “Oh, here comes Gilli with Alice.”

Merlin turns to see an average-looking bloke pushing a stroller approaching where Merlin and Freya stand by the bench. After Freya makes introductions and Merlin admires Alice, a pretty baby girl with impossibly fat cheeks, Freya asks, “Merlin, have you spoken to Arthur since you’ve been back?”

“No,” Merlin shakes his head. “I figure he’s moved on.”

Alice begins to cry, and Gilli digs in the diaper bag. “We forgot the bottle,” he says. “Freya, didn’t you pack it?”

“Oh, no!” Freya frets. “I thought you did! We’ll have to go back to the flat.” She turns to Merlin. “Sorry, Merlin. But it was good to see you again!”

“Good to see you, too, Freya. Nice to meet you, Gilli.”

Merlin watches them leave together, glad that Freya’s so happy. She suddenly turns and calls to Merlin. “You should look up Arthur!” Alice starts to wail, and the two parents hurry off, Freya waving her hand in goodbye.

Merlin stands watching them until they disappear around the corner. He bites his lip before turning around and beginning his run, starting out slow.

Should he look Arthur up? He really wants to, he realizes. But what if Arthur doesn’t want to see him? Perhaps Merlin should wait and ask Gwen about it tomorrow at her Christmas party. But what if Arthur is there? And he’s with someone? An uncomfortable feeling settles in Merlin’s stomach. He doesn’t think he could stand that. Not without some warning, anyway.

He resolves to do something one way or another.

___000___

“Gwen, I really can’t stay,” Arthur protests, setting down the bags and backing toward the door, heart beating fast, eyes avoiding the large Fraser fir in the corner with its twinkling faerie lights.

“For heaven sake, Arthur, you look as though we have torture devices in the room rather than Christmas decorations,” Gwen scolds, taking him by the hand and pulling him back in.

“Same thing,” Arthur says under his breath, and Gwen’s teasing smile disappears.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” she says, and Arthur winces, jerking away.

“I really have to go.”

“Arthur, have lunch with us at least,” Elena pipes up from the kitchen. She appears in the doorway, a loaf of bread in hand. “We won’t do any decorating until you leave.”

Arthur shakes his head, wrapping his scarf tightly about his neck and refusing to meet their eyes; he’s ashamed of the tears he feels prickling behind them, and he’s even more ashamed of his weakness where Christmas is concerned.

Gwen stands in front of him, arms hanging helplessly at her sides. “You’ll still come tomorrow night?” she asks weakly. “I know it’ll be difficult, but please come, Arthur. I’ll have a present for you.”

“I’ll try, Gwen,” he says. “That’s all I can do.” He steps out onto the porch, taking great gulps of air that aren’t contaminated with cinnamon and pine and looks up into the grey sky, the first flakes of snow falling onto his face. Blinking, he steps off the porch and walks resolutely to his car.

Arthur switches on the ignition, and immediately the interior fills with Christmas music. He frowns, but leaves it on, backing out of the short drive to Gwen’s house and onto the main road, head beginning to hurt. The shopping excursion with Gwen had been pure torture, but he’s come away with gifts for his father, Gwaine, Leon, and a few others, so he can’t complain. Now he just longs to get home to his quiet, dark house that lacks any semblance of the season.

As the snow picks up, Arthur flicks on the windshield wipers. On the radio, the first strains of _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_  begin to play, and he stiffens, fingers tightening on the steering wheel and heart constricting in his chest, a tidal wave of memories washing over him.

He, Merlin, Morgana, and Leon having dinner at Morgana and Leon’s house, sipping wine on the floor among a scattering of pillows, Morgana’s pregnant belly the center of attention as they balance the bowl of dip on it and watch the baby inside kick at it while it quivers precariously; Merlin laughing as he catches it the first time it starts to fall, eyes crinkling in the corners, full lips stretched wide, teeth white, neck corded and inviting. Arthur distinctly remembers wanting to press his lips there—longing to taste Merlin’s skin with his tongue.

 If he really concentrates, Arthur can almost taste it now, as well as hear his sister’s tinkling laugh, melodious as a bell, filling the room and his heart with the magic of its tone. It’s the one thing he can recall most easily about her, and he does it often for comfort because it doesn’t hurt as the memory of her voice and touch so often do. He doesn’t bother wiping the wetness from his face, but lets the tears trickle down, his nose dripping, in a rare moment of indulgence to his grief as the last strains of the song disappear, his mind remembering his sister’s voice as she sang it to them that night as the room grew dark but no one bothered to switch on a lamp; sang to her unborn child until it stilled its restless movements inside her, and Arthur feels again Merlin’s head resting comfortably on his shoulder, the heat from the fireplace warming Arthur’s back; see’s Leon’s contented, loving smile as he gazes at his wife, flames dancing over his skin, and knows for the last time complete and utter happiness; for much too soon it would all end.

___000___

Merlin walks down the halls of Avalon Home for Wayward Boys, smiling at the happy faces of the children he sees here and there, going about their daily chores or activities. This place was Arthur’s baby, the dream of the Pendragon twins’ and the reason Arthur worked so hard at school. He’d been determined to run it with Morgana and her husband, Leon, along with Arthur’s best friend, Gwaine. Arthur’s degree in social work would allow him to do so much for the youths there. Arthur spent a good deal of his free time playing footie with the lads, Merlin remembered, being a mentor to them as he worked for his degree.

Merlin’s hands sweat as he wonders if he’ll run into Arthur. The decision to come had been a difficult one, but Merlin would much rather face Arthur in this setting than to run into him at Gwen’s party when Arthur might possibly be accompanied by a significant other. Merlin not only longs to see Arthur again, but he feels the need to put things right somehow;  to at least express to Arthur how very much he meant to Merlin and try to explain why he left.

Merlin’s mobile buzzes in his pants, and he takes it out. Seeing that it’s Lance, he almost doesn’t answer, but then feels guilty and hits the button.

“Hi, Lance.”

“Hi, love, what are you doing? I miss you.” Lance’s tone is indulgent and private.

“I’m on a break from classes,” Merlin answers, a bit distracted as he tries to find he correct hallway. “An errand. Can I call you back tonight?”

“Sure. Still don’t want me to come this weekend?”

Merlin thinks about it. It’s tempting to have Lance’s comforting presence at the party, particularly if Arthur might be there with his own date. But Merlin doesn’t want to go on using Lance.

“Not this weekend,” he says. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay. Love you, Merlin.”

Merlin feels terrible not responding in kind, but he can’t bring himself to lie.

“Call you later,” he promises, and disconnects as he stops before a door. He’s going to have to have a talk with Lance. They’re either going to have to cool things down or break up and Merlin’s stomach hurts a little just thinking about it. He doesn’t love Lance, not like that, but he is very fond of him. Lance is a good person, and he’s been more than wonderful to Merlin.

Merlin finds Morgana’s office, but he’s momentarily confused because it has Leon’s name on it rather than hers. There’s evidently been some administrative shifting, and Merlin wonders if Morgana decided to be a stay-at-home mum after her baby was born.

He’s about to knock when he hears voices coming from inside the partially opened door. Recognizing Leon’s laugh, Merlin pushes at the wood, revealing the interior of what was once Morgana’s office to find Leon perched on the edge of a desk, a brunette that is definitely _not_ his wife pulled into the V of his legs.

“Oh, excuse me,” Merlin says hurriedly, backing out.

“Merlin?” Leon asks, surprised, the girl who is not Morgana taking a step back and looking at him curiously.

“Sorry,” Merlin says again. He knows his face is red. He wonders what’s happened in the past two years that’s changed Leon so much that he would cheat on the woman he was once so besotted with. And here at the office, where his brother-in-law could walk in at any minute. Or Morgana, for that matter. The siblings must be out, or Morgana at home with the baby as Merlin at first guessed.

Merlin’s mouth firms into a hard line of indignation. He wouldn’t have thought it of Leon.

“Merlin!” Leon’s face has lit up into a blazing smile, and he approaches Merlin, arm extended to grasp Merlin’s hand. “It’s so good to see you! Sefa, this is Merlin.” Leon turns to the woman behind him and then back to look at Merlin approvingly. “You look good. When did you get back?”

“Um, a couple of months ago.” Merlin eyes Leon with suspicion and disapproval.

“Months?” Leon’s smile wavers. “But why didn’t you look me up? Here, come sit down—why are you trying to leave? I’ll pour us some tea.”

Leon gets a cup off a counter running along the wall where an electric pot is set up. While Leon prepares the tea, Merlin casts uneasy glances at Sefa, who smiles openly at him. There’s some noise in the hall and suddenly a very small girl toddles in through a side door followed by a laughing, older woman dressed in jeans and a buttoned red cardigan.

“Morgan!” the woman scolds, but the child runs straight to Sefa, who immediately picks her up and kisses her rosy cheek.

“I thought you were taking a nap, little miss,” Sefa says to the child.

“Da!” Morgan holds out one chubby hand to Leon as the woman explains to Sefa that Morgan has been restless and demanding her father.

Now more confused than ever, Merlin’s eyes run over Morgan; the child looks barely two-years-old, with raven hair and pale green eyes.

“She’s beautiful,” Merlin finds himself saying, and all eyes turn to him, including Morgan’s.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” Merlin smiles.

“Merlin, this is my daughter, Morgan,” Leon tells him quietly. “I believe you left before you got to meet her.”

“I believe I did,” Merlin confirms, a feeling of foreboding building in his chest. “Good to meet you, Morgan.”

Morgan wiggles in Sefa’s arms, and Sefa puts her own. The older woman takes Morgan by the hand.

“I’ll get her down for that nap now.”

“Thanks, Gail,” Leon says, ruffling Morgan’s hair.

Gail leads Morgan from the room.

There’s an uncomfortable silence in which Leon hands Merlin his tea, and Merlin stirs it, staring down into its steamy depths.

“Morgana had a difficult delivery. She didn’t make it,” Leon finally explains quietly, the ticking of the clock on the wall louder than his words.

Merlin winces, thinking of beautiful, lively Morgana. He can’t say anything or even look at Leon for long moments. Finally he manages to croak out an “I’m sorry.”

Leon takes an audible breath. “Sefa was Morgan’s nurse. Being premature, the baby had some issues, too, but thankfully she came through it all. Sefa and I became close, and…we’re getting married.”

Merlin looks up, a tear loosening from his left eye and rolling down his cheek unchecked. Leon’s face is wet, too. Sefa hands Leon a box of tissues, surreptitiously wiping her own eyes with the fingers of her other hand. She kisses Leon’s cheek and excuses herself from the room to give them some privacy.

“Lovely to meet you, Merlin,” she murmurs as she passes him, and Merlin nods at her, giving her a faint smile.

“It’s been horrible,” Leon says hoarsely after the door gently clicks shut. “A nightmare. I know it must appear that I’ve moved on as though she never mattered…” his voice breaks on the words.

Merlin hastily stands, almost sloshing his tea out of the cup before he sets it on a nearby table. “No…no. I’m glad for you, Leon.” He walks over to the man who was once his friend and whom he’d thought such poor things about only moments before and puts a hand on Leon’s arm.

“I’m just sorry I wasn’t here for you. And for Arthur.” Merlin’s stomach hurts when he thinks of what Arthur must have been through. Morgana was his sister, his twin. They were so close. “How is he?”

Leon shakes his head. “He shut down. He says he understands about me and Sefa, but he will hardly look at me. I think he hates to look at Morgan because she’s so much like Morgana.” Leon wipes his eyes as fresh tears begin rolling down his cheeks. Merlin finds himself reaching for a tissue, thinking of Arthur alone all this time. A sudden and overwhelming yearning to be with him pierces Merlin’s heart.

“Why didn’t someone tell me?” he demands, and Leon looks at him with wet eyes.

“Arthur wouldn’t have wanted you to come back out of pity, Merlin.”

“Pity? I love him!” Perhaps he meant to say _loved him_ , but that isn’t how it comes out, and it isn’t right anyway. Leon doesn’t say anything. The clock becomes unbearably loud again.

“Is he here?” Merlin finally asks. “At Avalon?” He looks about as if he expects Arthur to suddenly materialize in the room.

Leon shakes his head. “After you left, Arthur went to work for his father.” At Merlin’s stricken face, he sighs. “Perhaps out of some weird sense of punishment, I don’t know. He and Morgana fought about it, Lord knows. I think Arthur even blames himself for her early labor, although stress had nothing to do with it.”

“Punishment? Why would Arthur want to punish himself?” Merlin asks, confused, unable to process that Arthur gave up his dream to work in an office for a man he considered a tyrant.

Leon shrugs. “Why does the prat do anything? He blames himself for your leaving, of course.”

Merlin’s mouth drops open. “But, why? That’s crazy! It had nothing to do with him! Arthur was wonderful! I just couldn’t deal with it all. My mother’s deceit---”

Leon blows his nose on the wad of tissues in his hand. “Arthur doesn’t talk about it, but Gwaine and I have compared notes, and in mellower moments…few and far between, mind you, and usually when he’s been drinking, Arthur’s admitted that he thinks he ran you off. He came on too strong, wouldn’t allow you to see other people, bought that house.”

Merlin looks at his feet. It’s all true, but none of it Arthur’s fault. It had all been wonderful, only too much in the face of Merlin’s insecurities.

“The tosser. I never wanted to see other people,” Merlin whispers. “Leon, where does he live? I need to see him.”

“In the house he bought for the two of you,” Leon surprises Merlin by saying. “Just another way he enjoys torturing himself. Particularly this time of year, as Morgana died on Christmas Eve.”

Merlin gasps. “Just a few weeks after I left!”

Leon nods miserably.

“God, Leon, I wish I had known.” Merlin covers his face with his hands and shakes his head. “I wish I’d never gone.” He feels the weight of Leon’s hand on his shoulder.

“None of this is your fault, Merlin. You had your own shite going on, and you had no idea what was coming with Morgana. Go to him. It isn’t too late for you two, if that’s what you want. Arthur’s never stopped loving you.”

Merlin’s heart constricts painfully in his chest. _God, could that really be true?_

___000___

Arthur sits staring morosely at the piece of chicken on his plate. He doesn’t want to eat it, but he forces himself, just as he forces himself to exercise and take his vitamins every day. To breathe in and out. To function at all. As he has every day for the past two years.

But for what, he sometimes wonders?

Sighing, he puts his fork down and leans back in the kitchen chair, staring at the wall. He’s had a little too much wine, and there’s a dull buzz in his head as well as the ever-present migraine.

_“Arthur, I’m leaving,” Merlin’s eyes seem even bigger than they normally are. Bigger and bluer. For a moment, Arthur almost thinks he could dive into them like two pools of bright blue water, immerse himself in Merlin forever._

_His mind won’t register the words for a moment. Is it because of the house? Does Merlin not like the Christmas tree? He blinks._

_“My mother called,” Merlin says, and Arthur wonders what that has to do with anything. Then his brain begins to function again, and a trickle of relief runs through him...it must be his mother’s health. Not that he wants Merlin’s mother to be ill, but…_

_“Is she sick?” Arthur asks._

_Merlin shakes his head. “She told me…” he swallows. “She told me that my father died.”_

_Arthur shakes his head, more confused than ever. “But your father’s been dead for years…”_

_“So I thought.” Merlin looks very upset, Arthur suddenly realizes, watching as Merlin wrings his hands, long fingers white from the pressure he’s using. “But Mum just told me that the man I thought was my father really wasn’t. That my real father was some man called Balinor—that he just died and left me some money. God, Arthur, I don’t even know if she would have told me otherwise, but evidently I have to go sign some papers.”_

_Relief again. God, Arthur’s a prick. “So that’s where you’re going. I can go with you if you like…”_

_Merlin looks at Arthur, eyes tragic. “No.” He steps forward, teeth working at his full bottom lip. The lip Arthur loves to take into his mouth and suck on. The lip that feels so damn good brushing against the underside of Arthur’s cock. The lip that Arthur watches when Merlin speaks. The lip…_

_“Arthur, I’m breaking up with you.”_

Arthur throws his wine glass against the wall over the fireplace and watches the glass shatter over the hearth. He turns and strides to the cabinet, searching for the bottle of vodka and another, larger, glass. He fills it and drinks it straight, eyes smarting. He squeezes them shut, squeezing out the memories of that day, squeezing out Merlin.

 _“Arthur, you can’t just stop living,” Morgana still manages to look imposing, even while eight months pregnant. “Merlin was great, but he’s gone_ , _and you’ve got to move on. Come to Avalon this afternoon. The boys want to see you.”_

_“I can’t this afternoon, Morgana,” Arthur tells her, avoiding her gaze. “I have a meeting with Father. I’ve decided to work for him.”_

_When he finally looks at his sister, her green eyes are blazing. “You have got to be kidding me. Arthur, do not throw your life away like this!”_

_Arthur shakes his head. “I’ve just come to my senses. Father is right—I’ve been living a dream.”_

_“Yes! Your dream! And part of it didn’t work out, but that doesn’t mean the other part can’t! Arthur, you can have it all! You_ will _have it all, eventually!”_

Arthur takes another large gulp of vodka, enjoying the burn it trails down his throat. That had been only the first of many arguments with Morgana, and perhaps she would have won eventually, if she hadn’t died so suddenly only two weeks later. Morgana tended to win their arguments.

Arthur pours more vodka into his glass, splashing his hands as he does so, and leans back into his chair, staring into the darkness. A dog barks outside as the sound of a motorcycle revving up cuts the stillness of the night. He takes a long drink, more memories washing over him. As the alcohol numbs his system, Arthur begins to lose the ability to keep them at bay.

_“Arthur, mate, wake up,” Gwaine shakes Arthur’s shoulders gently. The smell of ink and paper fills Arthur’s nostrils and a deep ache slices through his neck as he raises his head from his desk, blinking blearily around his dim office. His computer screen has dimmed and the outer offices appear empty._

_“W-what time issit?” he asks, confused._

_“After eleven. I’ve been calling your mobile.” Gwaine fumbles about the papers strewn on Arthur’s desk until he finds Arthur’s blackberry. “You’ve slept through them all.”_

_“Tired,” Arthur mumbles, sitting up and rubbing his eyes._

_Gwaine’s staring at him. “It’s Christmas Eve.”_

_Arthur swivels in his chair, covering his face with his hands, trying to rub away the cobwebs of sleep. He’d been dreaming about Merlin when Gwaine woke him._

_“Arthur, you have to come with me,” Gwaine says with finality, gently yet firmly pulling at Arthur’s arm._

_“Gwaine, leave off,” Arthur jerks away irritably. “I have a presentation to give the day after Christmas. I don’t want to go to Percy’s party; I told you before.”_

_“It’s not that,” Gwaine says, crouching in front of him, hands on Arthur’s knees. Something about Gwaine’s expression makes Arthur still, his heart rising into his throat. Gwaine’s brown eyes are large and very sad._

_“God, Gwaine…what is it? It’s not.” Fear, stark and paralyzing, seeps into Arthur’s bones. “It’s not…Merlin?”_

_Gwaine licks his lips, shakes his head. “No. No, it’s not Merlin. I haven’t heard from him. Arthur, it’s Morgana.”_

_Arthur sits up in his chair, and Gwaine stands. “Is the baby coming?” Arthur looks around, straightening his tie. “I’ve got to get to the hospital. Hand me my suit jacket, would you?”_

_When Gwaine doesn’t move, Arthur gets out of his chair to face him. “What is wrong with you? I want to be there---Gwaine!”_

_And then Arthur realizes all at once that it’s too early for the baby, and that Gwaine looks ill, and that he hasn't been saying any of the things he should have been saying if Arthur needed to get to the hospital in time to see the baby born._

_“I’m sorry, Arthur, but Morgana went into labor early, and the baby’s struggling to pull through, but Morgana, she…” Gwaine pauses, tears pooling in his eyes. Arthur stares at him, dumbstruck, darkness edging into the corners of his vision until all he’s aware of are Gwaine’s arms around him lowering him into his chair, hands pushing Arthur’s head between his legs until blood rushes into Arthur’s head again._

_“I’ll take you to the hospital if you want to go,” Gwaine tells him softly moments later when Arthur can sit up and Gwaine has pressed a bottle of water from the small refrigerator into his hands and made him drink from it._

_Arthur shakes his head. “Not if she’s gone.”_

_“You can say your goodbyes,” Gwaine tells him, hand stroking through Arthur’s hair._

_“No.”_

_“Leon’s there…”_

_“No!” Arthur shouts, and then hoarsely, “No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This is not happening.” His voice breaks, tears running down his cheeks._

_“Come back to my flat with me,” Gwaine tells him. “Yeah? You’ll do that, won’t you?”_

_Arthur nods solemnly, allowing Gwaine to help him up._

_Within the hour, Arthur lies in Gwaine’s bed with him, listening to Gwaine on the phone with Leon, telling him that Arthur is there with him. He talks softly for several moments, but Arthur’s mind buzzes with white noise._

_“Your father is at the hospital,” Gwaine tells Arthur after ending the call. “And Leon’s parents are with him.” Gwaine has already fielded a call from Uther for Arthur. Arthur doesn’t want to speak to his father. Can’t bring himself to hear the man’s platitudes._

_Arthur closes his eyes, more tears spilling from them, his fingers clutching at the sheets. Gwaine curls around his back, chin tucked into his shoulder._

_“Arthur, I’m so sorry.” Gwaine’s voice is quietly heart-broken._

_Eventually Arthur drifts off to sleep, only to awaken sometime later, shaking and crying, a horrible dream having wrenched him awake. Gwaine wraps his arms around him, shushing him. Arthur moans as reality sinks in._

_“Please, let it all have been part of the nightmare,” Arthur whispers brokenly._

_“I wish it were,” Gwaine says softly into Arthur’s hair._

_Arthur swallows. “Gwaine,” he pushes back into his friend’s body, wanting to feel something…anything…other than the terrible, empty pain of knowing his sister is gone forever. “Make me forget for a little while.”_

_Gwaine sighs, resting his forehead on Arthur’s shoulder. They’ve done it before, but not in years. “Arthur, how the hell could I even get it up now?” he asks with irritation. “I’m not a monster.”_

_Arthur reaches back and clasps Gwaine’s hand in his. “No, you’re not. You’re my best mate.” He squeezes Gwaine’s fingers, sniffling back fresh tears, feeling the hot wetness of Gwaine’s own tears on his bare shoulder. Gwaine presses a kiss there a moment later before moving slightly, skimming off his pants before helping Arthur out of his. Arthur feels Gwaine’s soft prick against the crack of his arse and pushes back against it, squeezing his eyes shut and huffing out a breath. Gwaine wraps a leg over Arthur’s hips, humping up against him, pressing kisses to Arthur’s ear before slipping his tongue inside._

_Arthur groans, giving himself over to sensation. Gwaine’s hand comes around to stroke his chest, fingers finding Arthur’s sensitive nipple. Arthur hasn’t been with anyone since Merlin._ He can’t think of Merlin. _He turns, determined to get Gwaine to full hardness so he can fuck Arthur senseless. Arthur hovers over his friend in the darkness, moving downward to take Gwaine’s soft prick into his mouth, fitting all of it plus his nuts between his lips, tongue swirling over soft tissue. Gwaine moans, pushing up off the mattress._

_Arthur continues sucking and tugging with his mouth, gratified at the way Gwaine comes to life under his administrations. Arthur needs this; he needs to be filled. He needs pain. He needs to forget._

_“Fuck, Pendragon, your mouth…” Gwaine breathes, arching his back._

_When Gwaine is good and hard, Arthur deep-throats him a couple of times before pulling off and watching as Gwaine rolls on a lubricated condom with fumbling hands._

_Arthur straddles him._

_“Fuck!” Gwaine growls as Arthur lowers himself onto Gwaine’s cock, enjoying the searing burn of it as his body takes him in inch by inch. He begins to rock back and forth, hitting bottom and then fucking relentlessly, ignoring the discomfort, watching Gwaine’s face in the darkness as it contorts in pleasure. Arthur isn’t looking to quench his own desire; he only wants to feel something other than the agony of sadness. He rises to his knees and pushes back down, up and down, over and over again, Gwaine meeting him partway, swiveling his hips and crying out, heedless of his sleeping flatmate in the room next door._

_Arthur isn’t even completely hard; his cock waves in front of him as he rocks, hands planted on Gwaine’s thighs behind Arthur’s back. His arse hurts, and he wants more of it._

_“Gwaine…” Arthur slows down his pace. “I need...”_

_Gwaine pushes Arthur off and moves to get behind him, pressing Arthur into the mattress with his body. He enters Arthur swiftly, and Arthur groans out a prolonged “yessss…”as his friend pounds into him, bedstead hitting the wall rhythmically._

_This is the arse-pounding Arthur so desperately needs, and he relishes it, letting his mind blank out as Gwaine takes his pleasure._

_It seems to go on forever, Arthur lifting his arse for more, until finally Gwaine stills above him, grunting noisily, and then slips out, limbs trembling. Arthur doesn’t move. He’s weightless, numb and finally tearless._

_Arthur feels Gwaine cleaning him up, but he’s in limbo. Moments later, Gwaine helps Arthur move a bit so he can slip into the bed beside him. They don’t say anything. Soon Gwaine begins to snore softly._

Arthur downs another glass of vodka, head swimming. There’s a noise in the room, a pounding that Arthur’s sure is coming from outside his head and not in. It takes him several more seconds to realize it’s the door.

He curses, getting to his feet and almost falling. He doesn’t remember having that much to drink and looks over at the vodka bottle, surprised to see more than half of it gone. The knocking on the door continues, and Arthur focuses again on getting there, weaving a little as he makes his way across the room toward it.

When Arthur pulls it open, he’s sure that he’s hallucinating. He squints. It certainly looks like Merlin standing out on his porch. Arthur sags against the door and reaches out a hand, touching the illusion with two outstretched fingers that meet the soft fabric of a blue scarf.

“Hello, Arthur,” the illusion says.

“You’re not real.” Arthur shakes his head and turns around, heading back into the house, uncaring if the door stands open and cold air seeps in.

He’s surprised a moment later when, sprawled upon the couch, he opens his eyes to find illusion-Merlin staring down at him.

“Arthur? Are you all right? Are you drunk?”

Arthur smiles at that. “Verrry,” he answers. “I’ve had prac-tic-ally the entire bottle,” he hiccups loudly, the room spinning a bit. He studies illusion-Merlin’s face. “You look so real.” Sadness washes over him. “I wish you were real.” He closes his eyes again, head pounding.

“Arthur,” cold fingers squeeze his hand. “I am real. I’m back in town and I’ve come to see you.”

Arthur has to chuckle a bit at that. His head is spinning faster and faster and he has to open his eyes again to still the movement. “Merlin left,” he tells the illusionary Merlin. “A long time ago.” His words are thick in his ears, his eyelids heavy. He feels the throw being tucked around him.

“I want to talk to you, Arthur.” A hand smooths over Arthur’s fringe, familiar in a way that tugs at Arthur’s heart. “I’ll be at Gwen’s party tomorrow night. Please come.”

Arthur thinks he feels the press of lips to his head before he passes out.

~~~

The morning sun is way too bright, and Arthur curses himself for failing to close the drapes the night before. As he eases himself to a sitting position on the couch, he has the sudden memory of leaving the front door open, and moves into the hallway to check, doubling over a bit as the urge to vomit assails him.

He groans, leaning against the wall. The front door is closed, thank fuck, although only the lock on the door knob is engaged. Arthur holds his hand to his head as he makes his way to the kitchen and the tea pot.

Once he has a cup in his right hand and pain reliever in his left, Arthur makes his way back to the couch, eyeing the half-empty vodka bottle warily. All he recalls about the evening before is drinking and indulging in hurtful memories. There are bits of glass all around the fireplace from where he threw his wine glass and that is one of the last things Arthur remembers doing other than getting out the bottle of vodka.

Arthur props his feet on the coffee table, thinking. He vaguely remembers answering the door and having a conversation with someone, thinking they looked a bit like Merlin. Who could that have been? Had he been so sloshed that Gwaine looked like Merlin to him? God, Arthur hopes so. Anyone else, and Arthur thinks he’d die of the embarrassment of it all.

Arthur picks up his mobile and types out a message to Gwaine before taking the medication and sipping leisurely at his tea. He knows he’s going to have to make an appearance at Gwen’s party, since he owes her for the whole schnauzer incident. He also knows that she really only wants him there to make sure that he isn’t alone at Christmas. It won’t hurt him to give her some peace of mind; he’ll make an appearance and leave, he decides, eyes landing on a piece of paper on the coffee table just as his mobile vibrates on the couch.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers, reading the scrawled note, eyes widening.

Arthur, I came by to see you. You’d had too much to drink and passed out. I’ll be at Gwen’s party tomorrow night. Please be there—I want to talk to you.

Merlin.

Arthur stares at the note, disbelieving. He grabs his mobile, and Gwaine’s message confirms it.

**I wasn’t there, mate.**

Heart hammering, Arthur hurriedly dials Gwaine’s number with the thumb of his right hand has he runs the restless fingers of his left through his hair.

“Gwaine, Merlin showed up here last night and I must’ve let him in, but I was pissed as hell and he evidently covered me up and left me here because there’s a note that says to be at Gwen’s party tonight—he wants to talk, did you know anything about this? I can’t believe he’s in town; what do you think he wants to talk to me about? Gwaine, are you there? Why the fuck aren’t you saying anything?”

“Arthur, for fuck’s sake, take a breath!” Gwaine orders, and Arthur does, sinking back into the cushions of the couch.

“Now, slowly, repeat what you just said.”

Arthur goes through it all again, more coherently this time.

“No, I didn’t know he was in town,” Gwaine assures Arthur. “I would have definitely warned you.”

“Gwaine, you have to go to Gwen’s with me tonight,” Arthur begs. “I can’t face Merlin alone.”

“Calm down! Look, I’m going anyway, but Arthur, of course you can face him. This is Merlin, someone you used to be closer to than anyone.”

“What do you think he wants to talk to me about?” Arthur worries, relieved that Gwaine will be there with him. Arthur can’t stop staring at the note and the familiar handwriting on it.

“Probably the way things ended between you, I’d guess,” Gwaine replies. “I don’t know. Arthur, it will all be fine. Pull yourself together. I’ve been worried about you as it is.”

Arthur bristles a little. “No need to worry about me; I’m fine.”

“Of course you are. Look, I’ll be there a couple of hours before the party, yeah? We’ll get ready together. It’ll be like old times.”

Arthur swallows, heart slowing down to its normal rhythm. “Okay. Thanks. See you then.”

___000___

Merlin has ignored the last two calls from Lance. He can’t talk to him, not now.

Seeing Arthur, even pissed as fuck, has made Merlin edgy. He wants to go back over there, to that house that was meant for the two of them, and see Arthur again. The night before, Arthur had been bedraggled and sloshed, but still so handsome; Merlin had wanted to pull him into his arms and hold him. It had taken everything in him to cover Arthur up on the couch and leave, writing him a quick note to let him know he’d really been there, as Arthur seemed to think Merlin a figment of his imagination.

For a moment, Merlin gives in to the rush of feelings assailing him and scoops up his car keys, heading for the door. He stops himself before he gets there. Undoubtedly Arthur has a terrible hangover, and Merlin would rather talk to Arthur when they’re both feeling human. Hopefully Arthur will come to Gwen’s that night and they can talk.

Merlin spends the remainder of the day trying to catch up on his course work. He’ll sit for exams after Christmas, and he has to concentrate. He keeps the coffee pot full and tries not to think about how Arthur looked sprawled out on his couch, shirt riding up, so vulnerable, and just as sexy as he’d ever been—maybe even more.

Merlin’s missed him so goddamn much, it hurts.

Late in the day, after Merlin sends a short text telling Lance he’s all right but doesn’t want to talk, Lance stops calling and Merlin breathes a sigh of relief. Merlin really can’t deal with Lance’s feelings at the moment, not when the anticipation of seeing Arthur again is killing him. He takes a shower and dresses for the party, making an attempt to look festive by adding a red scarf to his navy jumper and jeans. He heads to the nearest Tesco for a poinsettia for Gwen and Elena, then stops back home to pick up the bottle of wine he forgot.

Lance’s Honda Civic is in the driveway.

“Merlin, I know I said I wouldn’t come, but I was worried,” Lance immediately apologizes when Merlin walks in the door to find his boyfriend uneasily wandering the flat. “You haven’t been answering my calls—it’s so unlike you!”

Hovering in the entryway, Merlin takes a couple of breaths before saying anything. He’s conflicted; stuck between irritation at Lance for ignoring Merlin’s request to be alone this weekend and compassion for Lance at having been worried enough to drive all this way.

“It’s okay…I should have spoken to you and eased your mind,” he finally says. “Listen, I have to go out. It’s important. We’ll talk when I get back, yeah?”

Lance nods, uncertain, but obviously relieved that Merlin is fine and not angry with him. He smiles and opens the drawer of Merlin’s desk, pulling out some take-out menus.

“I’ll just make myself at home, then.” He looks Merlin over. “You look nice.” He takes Merlin’s hand, pulling him into his arms and kissing him softly. Merlin smiles, feeling wretched, because all he can think about is seeing Arthur. It’s eating him alive.

Lance’s eyes grow teasing. “You don’t have a date, do you?”

Merlin shakes his head, pulling away.

“Of course not.” He heads to the bathroom as an excuse for coming back in the first place, deciding to forego the wine, because how can he explain to Lance that he’s going to a party without inviting Lance along? And Merlin can’t do that—he has to talk to Arthur tonight, alone.

There are several cars parked in front of Gwen’s small house by the time Merlin gets there, as he’s a little late. The windows are lit up and a Christmas tree twinkles in the large front window.

“Merlin!” Gwen greets him at the door, pulling him in out of the cold. “I’m so glad you made it.” The interior of Gwen’s house smells spicy and exudes comfort and warmth. Elena approaches, and Merlin accepts her kiss on the cheek with a smile. Muted strains of “Jingle Bell Rock” can be heard from the next room.

“Let me get you some of my special cider,” Elena says, already heading back into the kitchen.

“Merlin,” Gwen leans close, her eyes round with sincerity. “I should let you know that Arthur’s here.”

“Good,” Merlin tells her. “I really want to see him.” He smiles, and Gwen appears relieved as though she’d been afraid Merlin might bolt when he found out. She takes his coat and draws him farther into the house and around the corner where people are mulling about the living room, laughing and talking while eating from small plates.

Merlin’s eyes sweep the room, looking for Arthur. He spots Gwaine just as the other man turns and sees him, their eyes meeting. Gwaine doesn’t seem surprised to see Merlin, and his expression’s friendly, though guarded. Merlin lifts the cup Elena just handed him in salute, and Gwaine nods at him before peering over his shoulder toward the back deck. He looks again at Merlin, and Merlin gets the message, heading that way.

Merlin had never known Arthur to smoke, but that’s what he’s doing when Merlin slides open the door and joins him outside. It’s very cold, and Merlin shivers, wrapping the red scarf more tightly about his neck. Arthur’s wearing a red jumper, and his blond hair shines like a beacon in the darkness where he stands looking off into the back woods.

“Arthur,” Merlin says simply, the cold biting his lungs as he takes a breath, and he watches Arthur’s shoulders tense.

Merlin sets his cup on a nearby table and shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers as a cold wind moves through, rattling the wind chimes hanging near the door. Arthur takes another drag off his cigarette, hand shaking a little, before putting it out. Arthur slowly turns around, and Merlin’s heart stammers in his chest at the sight of him, because he’s sober, gorgeous, and just as Merlin remembered.

“Merlin,” Arthur says, and Merlin really thinks he could die on the spot. The night before, when Arthur was drunk, it had all seemed unreal. Arthur had been there before him, but he’d not been like this…in control of himself and so fucking alive that Merlin wants to grab hold of him and force him to kiss him.

“I saw your note,” Arthur continues. “I’m afraid I was a bit out of it last night.”

Merlin grins. “I noticed. How are you?” Then Merlin remembers, smile disappearing. “Arthur, I heard about Morgana. I’m so sorry.”

Arthur’s face, open if aloof, immediately shutters. “Thank you.”

“I know how much you loved her.”

Arthur turns away abruptly, hands gripping the wooden rail of the deck.

“She was so vibrant, so wonderfully alive. I can’t believe…” Merlin searches for words.

“Don’t,” Arthur whispers hoarsely. “Please.”

Merlin’s pulled his hands from his pockets and he squeezes them together nervously. “Your niece is beautiful.”

Arthur bows his head and remains silent for long moments until finally, he turns around, his face a mask.

“How have you been, Merlin?”

Merlin tucks his frigid fingers under his arms for warmth. How can Arthur stand there so nonchalantly in this bitter cold? Their breath hangs visibly between them in puffs of white, and Merlin can feel the tips of his ears burning.

“I’ve been fine. I went to stay with my mate Will in Italy.” Merlin shifts awkwardly before adding, “I recently spent some time with my mum.”

“How is she?”

“She’s well, thanks.  We’ve come to an understanding. After the whole thing about my real father…I was angry. We talked, and I finally came out to her.”

Arthur’s eyes spark in the darkness and then go out. “How did that go?”

“Better than expected,” Merlin admits. “I’m not sure that I was ever afraid of her reaction so much as just admitting it to her.”

“And now?” Arthur asks, body stiff. “What are you doing these days?” _What are you doing back here?_ The unasked question hangs between them in the air.

“I’ve come back to get my master’s degree. I’m living on campus, in the flats over by the commons. Arthur,” Merlin hesitates, wanting so much to touch him. “Arthur, I’ve missed you.”

Arthur sags a little, but doesn’t move otherwise.

“I went looking for you at Avalon.”

Arthur turns his head to look out into the darkness again, jawline straight.

“I couldn’t work there,” Arthur says.

“After Morgana?”

“After you,” Arthur says quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispers. “I never thought…”

Arthur abruptly turns on Merlin, eyes hard. “Never thought what, Merlin?”

Merlin starts at the expression on Arthur’s face. “Just never thought my leaving would…”

“Would what?” In two strides, Arthur is abruptly in Merlin’s face, and it’s intoxicating and frightening, both. Strong hands grip Merlin’s biceps, and Merlin suddenly forgets all about the cold.

“W-would…matter so much to you,” Merlin whispers between them, and a shudder runs through Arthur’s body, his jaw hardening.

“Why?” he asks Merlin. “Did I not make it clear enough how much you meant to me? Did buying us a _house_ not prove to you how I felt?”

Merlin looks down the small space between their bodies, and Arthur loosens his grip.

“I knew how you felt. I just…I thought you’d get over me. I didn’t think my leaving would change your life or anything. I was _confused_ , Arthur.”

Arthur laughs derisively, and Merlin’s hackles rise. “It’s not all about you, you know. I’ve been hurting, too. I loved you, too!”

Arthur raises a brow. “You left.”

“I had to!” Merlin almost shouts. It’s unfair that Arthur’s blaming it all on Merlin; things aren’t that black and white; they never are. “I couldn’t do it anymore. I wasn’t ready. Fuck, I hadn’t even admitted to myself I was gay when I met you, Arthur! You steamrolled into my life and suddenly we were this couple! And yeah, fuck, I was happy, but I was scared, too, you know?”

Arthur watches Merlin in the darkness, not saying anything.

“And then when I found out my mum had been lying to me, and Pete had never been my real father—shit. Do you know what that did to me? I always looked up to Pete. I thought I might be a bit like him. When he died, it almost killed me, but I had my memories and the hope of making him proud, and then to find out that my mum had had me by some bloke she met on the train!” Merlin shakes his head, the pain of the betrayal rolling over him again. He stands straighter, chest heaving, fists gripped tightly at his sides.

The air remains charged between them until Arthur finally speaks, expression easing a little.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” he says softly. “I was sorry then, too. I wanted to help.”

“You couldn’t,” Merlin said. “You had your life all sorted, and mine wasn’t. It looked to everyone like it was, but it really wasn’t.” Merlin wipes angry tears from his eyes. “I was a mess, and I had to get out of here. I’m sorry I hurt you, Arthur. That’s what I came here to say. You are a wonderful person, and you were a lovely boyfriend. None of it was your fault.”

“I pushed you,” Arthur says, formerly stony expression morphing into something distraught, effectively draining all the anger from Merlin’s body.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about things,” Arthur continues, “and you’re right; I steamrolled you. I saw you and wanted you, so I took you.”

Merlin laughs wetly. “Give me some credit. It’s not as if you could have had me if I hadn’t wanted it, Arthur.”

“But I could have left you alone. With Freya.”

Merlin sighs and shakes his head. “I wanted you the moment I saw you; you know that. You knew it then. Arthur, there’s no point in arguing about this now. I just wish you’d called me after what happened to Morgana.”

“I didn’t know where you were.”

“You could have called my mum,” Merlin points out.

“I didn’t want your pity,” Arthur replies stubbornly, bringing to Merlin’s mind every time Arthur ever stood his ground against common sense. It infuriates Merlin, especially when they’re talking about Morgana, someone Merlin truly cared about.

“Morgana was my friend!”

Arthur takes a step back.

“Did you ever think that I might want to _know_?” Merlin demands. “I was more than just an extension of you.”

Arthur looks at Merlin like Merlin’s stabbed him, and Merlin lays his hand on Arthur’s arm. Arthur flinches at the touch.

“I’m sorry. That came out wrong.” Merlin takes a deep breath of frigid air.

“No,” Arthur says slowly, blue eyes rising to meet Merlin’s. “I think it came out exactly right.”

The door to the deck slides open and Gwaine sticks his head out. “Everything okay out here?” he asks. At the look on Arthur’s face, Gwaine steps onto the deck, closing the door behind him.

“Arthur?”

Merlin clutches Arthur’s arm, unwilling to let him go. “Arthur, we had our problems. I shouldn’t have run like I did, and I’m sorry.” He slides his hand down to grasp Arthur’s hand. It’s like ice. “Please forgive me for leaving like I did.”

Arthur makes a jerky movement of his head in assent. “I’m sorry, too,” he says. “For pushing you. For not listening.”

Gwaine looks between the two of them, remaining silent. Merlin takes a step back, letting go Arthur’s hand.

“I’ll just go inside. I’ve hardly spoken to Gwen since I arrived.”

Stepping into the warmth of the house and the buzz of the crowd is like being plunged under water. Merlin heads for the hallway, finding the small powder room and locking himself in. He stares sightlessly at the fat Father Christmas soap dispenser sitting by the sink until his heartbeat returns to normal, then washes his hands and his face, using one of the little hand towels decorated with holly leaves to pat himself dry.

When he finally leaves the bathroom, he finds Gwen.

“I have to leave,” Merlin tells her. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” Gwen asks, looking worried. “Did you speak with Arthur?”

Merlin nods. “It’s just too much at once. Tell Elena goodbye for me.”

He heads for the door.

___000___

“Arthur,” Gwaine puts a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Come inside out of the cold.”

Arthur’s rooted to the spot, reviewing every word Merlin spoke to him, every nuance of his voice, every look and touch. Arthur stopped feeling the cold long ago.

“Come on, mate. Merlin’s left. You won’t see him again tonight. Time for a regroup.”

Arthur allows Gwaine to tug him inside where the warm air stings his skin and the smell of spiced cider turns his stomach.

Gwaine presses a cup of the stuff into Arthur’s hands and Arthur stands, shell-shocked, staring into it until Gwaine nudges it to his lips.

“It’s all too much,” Arthur rasps out after a couple of steamy sips.

“What is?” Gwaine asks, taking the cup.

“Christmas…the party. Merlin.” Arthur squeezes his eyes shut. “Missing Morgana.” His voice grows in volume. “All these fucking _memories!_ Why can’t someone just wipe my mind clean?”

Several people turn and stare and Gwaine leads Arthur through the kitchen into the back hall. The comforting weight of Gwaine’s hands on Arthur’s shoulders ground him just as Arthur feels himself begin to fly into bits.

“Someday,” Gwaine says looking into Arthur’s eyes, “many of the memories that haunt you now will be a comfort to you. I promise.”

Arthur stares into the calm brown of Gwaine’s gaze for a moment before finally nodding. Gwaine pulls Arthur into a hug and in a rare moment of weakness, Arthur sags into him, allowing his friend to really comfort him.

“Everything all right? Arthur?” Gwen’s voice behind them brings Arthur out of Gwaine’s embrace, reminding him why he doesn’t like to give into weakness; someone always appears to witness it. Raised to be strong and impervious, Arthur can’t help but be ashamed at his display of emotion.

“Fine,” he replies curtly before softening his tone. “I’m sorry I’m not much fun tonight, Gwen.”

She smiles. “I’m just glad you’re here, Arthur.” Her eyes cloud. “You’re not angry with me? For inviting Merlin?”

Arthur shakes his head. “No. There were things that needed to be said between us.”

Gwen nods, eyes briefly darting to meet Gwaine’s, before she turns and walks back toward the sounds of the party.

“I’m going home,” Arthur announces, making up his mind. “I know Gwen wants me to stay the night, but I’m not good company. Give her my regrets, would you?”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Gwaine tells him. “You can’t just run away, Arthur. You do too much of that already.”

Arthur swings to face him. “And what do you know about it? It’s only the second Christmas, Gwaine. I—I just can’t _do_ this!” Arthur shoulders past Gwaine, grabbing his coat out of the guest room. “I want to be at my place where there’s none of this to remind me.”

Gwaine blocks the door. “And where you’ll sit and drink yourself to oblivion. Isn’t that how Merlin found you last night? You didn’t even know he’d been real!”

Arthur clenches his fists around the fabric of his coat. “And so what if I do? What’s it to you, Gwaine?”

“I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces!” Gwaine protests angrily.

“You don’t have to be my friend,” Arthur mutters. “No one’s forcing you to stick around.” 

“Don’t be an arse, Arthur,” Gwaine says, shaking his head. “Look, it’s obvious you don’t have the sense God gave you, so let me lay it on the line here. You need to make a decision.”

Arthur meets Gwaine’s eyes, confused. “What’s that?”

“Whether you’re going to try to get back with Merlin.” Gwaine leans against the doorframe, hand on hip.

Arthur frowns, not having thought this an option. “Merlin’s moved on.”

“Probably, but it’s obvious he still loves you.”

Arthur tosses his coat back onto the bed and sits down, rubbing his hands over his face. If it had been obvious, Arthur had managed to completely miss it. Merlin had looked sad for Arthur’s loss, and uncertain about speaking with him. That’s all.

“I think you’ve been reading too many romance novels, Gwaine,” Arthur says quietly, staring down at his fingernails.

Gwaine laughs, coming to sit on the bed beside Arthur. “You’re not going to give up so easily, are you?”

Arthur looks at him. “Were you even here for my relationship with Merlin? Part of the problem was that I came on too strong!”

“That was then, mate,” Gwaine shrugs. “Merlin’s older now and knows who he is. He’s back here, isn’t he?”

“To go to uni!”

“He looked you up.”

“To make amends for leaving so abruptly! You’re reading too much into this, Gwaine.” Arthur shakes his head in frustration.

“And I say I’m not. How about a wager?”

Arthur laughs at that, a loud bark in the otherwise quiet room. “You’d find something to bet on at a church social, you tosser.”

Gwaine’s grin is roguish. “Such as how many of the birds are wearing knickers?”

Arthur can’t help himself; he dissolves into easy laughter, remembering the times Gwaine’s mother had forced them to attend her church gatherings. “And what size and what colour. As if we’d ever be able to find out for sure.”

They share a moment of companionable silence.

“Go on over to Merlin’s,” Gwaine suggests softly. “Have a real talk where you aren’t standing out in the freezing air trying to keep your pride about you.”

Arthur’s stomach clenches at the thought. “No,” he says. “Merlin left me. He has to be the one to come back.”

“He _has_ come back, Arthur!” Gwaine groans. He stands, pulling Arthur to his feet beside him. “Let’s go.”

Arthur looks at him suspiciously. “Where?”

“To the car, for starters,” Gwaine replies, grabbing his own coat and slipping his arms into the sleeves.

___000___

When Merlin arrives home, the lamp is on in his bedroom, meaning that Lance is awake and reading. Merlin’s spent half an hour driving around, trying to bring his heart rate back to normal speed after having seen Arthur. It hasn’t particularly worked.

He hangs up his coat and toes his shoes into the closet before heading for the kitchen where he’s glad to see fresh tea made. Lance is thoughtful like that, always anticipating Merlin’s wants and needs. Merlin thinks back to his relationship with Arthur, trying to recall exactly how Arthur was about such things, but all he gets is slapped in the face with soul-jarring emotion that brings tears to his eyes and a dull pain to his chest.

Merlin washes his face in the kitchen sink, patting it dry with a dish towel before taking a fortifying sip of his tea and heading for the bedroom.

Lance looks up from his book. “Home already?”

Merlin nods. “I just had to speak with somebody.” He sets his cup on the nightstand. “Thanks for the tea. It’s just what I needed; it’s frigid out there.”

Lance nods, brow furrowing unhappily. “You don’t have to make conversation, Merlin. I feel badly enough about having come. I almost went back home.”

Merlin begins to undress. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he lies. Or maybe it isn’t really a lie; he wouldn’t want Lance to turn around and make the drive after dark.

Lance puts his book down, eyes watching Merlin strip himself of his clothes.

“Something’s bothering you, Merlin,” he finally says after Merlin comes back from brushing his teeth and using the bathroom.

Merlin doesn’t bother to deny it. He sits down on the bed, and Lance reaches out to finger the fabric of Merlin’s T-shirt. “We’ve always talked about things. Lately I feel like you’re shutting me out.”

Merlin leans back against the headboard of his bed, drawing one knee up to his chest. He’s known all along that Lance must feel the difference in him. Merlin would rather not get into this conversation late at night, but he doesn’t see any way around it. It’s time for the truth.

“It’s Arthur,” he tells Lance, gnawing at his lip.

“Arthur?” Lance looks confused. “Oh, the bloke you used to date?”

“We were in love,” Merlin says. “Deeply…in love.” His voice trembles, and he hates it because it tells Lance too much at once. He doesn’t want to hurt the man beside him, although he knows it’s inevitable.

Merlin feels Lance drawing himself up on the bed. “You still love him,” Lance states, guarded.

“Yes,” Merlin sighs. He looks at Lance. “I love you, too,” he tells him. “I really do. Just…”

“Just not like you love him.” Lance stares at Merlin, dark eyes clouded. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I’m sorry.” Merlin can’t think of what else to say.

“And that’s why you didn’t want me here this weekend? Were you going to break up with me over the phone?” Lance’s voice is hurt.

“No! I would have…” Merlin stops, realizing he’s just admitted his intent.

Lance takes a sharp breath. “Did you and…Arthur… You had a date with him?” His face hardens. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No!” Merlin protests, reaching for Lance’s hand. “I wouldn’t—“ would he? Merlin suddenly isn’t sure. If Arthur had taken Merlin into his arms, would Merlin really have protested? Could he have?

“Lance,” Merlin turns sideways on the mattress to face the other man. “I found out recently that while I was away, Arthur’s twin sister died. I wanted to see him, so I went to a friend’s house where I knew he’d be tonight. He’s been through a lot, and besides that, I left it all undone before. There were things to be said.”

Lance looks questionly at Merlin.

“Nothing really happened. We talked…it was painful. We brought some things out into the open. That’s all.”

Lance presses his lips together, seems to come to a decision. “Merlin,” he moves a little closer in the bed, pressing their thighs together. “I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t hurt like the devil, but…we’re good together, you and I. I think we’re worth fighting for.”

Merlin’s mouth falls open, surprised. He hadn’t expected this.

“Lance, I don’t think so.”

“Are you saying that what we have isn’t good?” Lance demands, hurt and anger passing over his handsome face. “You really think that a volatile relationship you had over two years ago is worth throwing it all away?”

“You don’t know anything about me and Arthur or what we had,” Merlin tells him quietly.

Lance recoils at the cool certainty in Merlin’s voice. “No, I don’t,” Lance admits. “This is all news to me, frankly.”

A knock at the front door startles them both, and Merlin looks at the clock beside the bed. It’s just after eleven. Rising, he grabs a pair of jeans, pulling them up over his briefs, and heads for the foyer, thinking of the few people he knows in the building and wondering who it could be knocking this late at night. He couldn’t be more shocked to find Arthur and Gwaine standing in the hallway, Arthur appearing pained and unsure.

“Arthur!” Merlin breathes, pushing the door back. As an afterthought, he adds, “Hello, Gwaine.”

Gwaine nods. “I feel a bit the third wheel, but Arthur wouldn’t come up here without me.”

Arthur shoots Gwaine a caustic look that clearly says if he had a gun he’d shoot him down right that moment, and it breaks the tension. All three men wind up smiling.

“Come in. I have tea made,” Merlin steps back, and Gwaine and Arthur enter the room, looking around. “Just have a seat.”

“You don’t have to go to the trouble of tea,” Arthur tells him, his voice sending Merlin’s pulse racing.

“Nonsense, no trouble.” Merlin retreats into the kitchen.

Merlin thinks later it must have been the shock and elation at Arthur showing up on his doorstep that made Merlin completely forget about Lance, because when he returns to the living room with two cups of tea, it takes him a few seconds to fight the surprise at finding Lance sitting with them.

 _At least he had the decency to get dressed_ , Merlin thinks, but then realizes that Lance would never resort to walking into the room in his pants, no matter how jealous he got; whereas, given the same situation, Arthur probably would have sauntered in naked. The thought makes Merlin smile.

Gwaine appears decidedly uncomfortable, and Arthur’s expression is a bit closed off. Lance glances up at Merlin from where he’s perched on the edge of chair, looking incredibly at home in Merlin’s flat, one bare foot tucked between the cushions.

“We’ve made our own introductions,” he tells Merlin, who nods, wondering exactly how Lance presented himself to them. As Merlin’s boyfriend? Soon to be ex-boyfriend?

“Perhaps this isn’t a good time after all,” Arthur begins to rise, and Merlin moves around the table to stop him. 

“No, I’m glad you’re here, Arthur,” he says firmly, taking Arthur by the arm and then immediately letting go. Arthur’s eyes slide to meet Merlin’s, pulling him in like the moon does the tide, and for a moment all else fades.

“You are?”

Merlin’s heart climbs to his throat at the pure need peeking through the cold veil of Arthur’s eyes. He nods solemnly, and seconds tick by unnoticed until Gwaine speaks, bringing Merlin back to the uncomfortable reality that there are four men in his living room, not just two.

“Er, Lance, do you mind scrounging around for a biscuit or something to go with this tea? I didn’t have a chance to eat at Gwen’s.” Gwaine starts toward the kitchen, and Merlin watches Lance reluctantly follow.

Arthur hasn’t stopped staring at Merlin, and Merlin bites his bottom lip nervously.

“You’ve always done that,” Arthur suddenly says quietly.

“What?”

“Bite your lip. I used to wonder that it didn’t bleed.” Arthur’s gaze is fixed on Merlin’s mouth as though he can’t tear it away. “It always made me want to kiss you.”

Merlin’s heart stutters in his chest. “Yeah?”

Arthur nods solemnly, still staring at Merlin’s lips, golden lashes lowered, so close Merlin could easily touch them.

“How about now?” Merlin asks, taking his lip between his teeth again and letting it ease away slowly, his tongue chasing behind to wet the plump flesh.

“Right now…” Arthur breathes, “I want to kiss you more than anything else in the world.” He wavers a little on his feet and then blinks, as if awakening from a dream.

Merlin reaches out and clasps Arthur’s hand, shivering at the touch. “I want you to,” he says, before he can stop himself. “Please, Arthur.”

Arthur’s breath hitches in his throat, and the sound tugs at both Merlin’s heart and groin. Entwining Merlin’s fingers with his, Arthur leans in and presses his mouth gently against Merlin’s, lips gentle and inviting. Merlin responds in kind; soft, hesitant.

Gradually, everything around Merlin dissolves into brightness, like sun sparkling along the beach after a receding wave.

“I’ve missed that,” Arthur whispers against Merlin’s temple before pulling away completely.

Merlin nods, unable to speak for a moment, eyes roaming over Arthur’s flushed face.

“I’ve missed little things,” Merlin admits, reaching up and gently pulling at a strand of Arthur’s blond hair. “The way your hair falls into your face.” He trails his fingers across Arthur’s jaw, bringing them to Arthur’s lips.

“The redness of your lips. I’ve never met a man with lips so red.” Merlin runs his thumb over them, and they part, tongue tip brushing Merlin’s skin. Overcome, Merlin drops his hand to Arthur’s neck and tugs him in, other hand curling about Arthur’s waist, bringing their bodies together. Sparks ignite from the center of Merlin’s spine all the way to his head at the contact.

This kiss is as different from the last one as night is to day, deep and burning in its intensity. Arthur tilts his head, opening his mouth wide, and Merlin plunges in with his tongue, seeking to meet Arthur’s. The wet slide is delicious, sending a charge along Merlin’s spine, making him shiver, and Arthur’s arms move to tighten around Merlin’s back, pinning him close.

Merlin feels the strength of Arthur’s thighs against his, the hard planes of Arthur’s back under his hands, as Merlin hungrily nips and sucks at Arthur’s mouth, his body remembering this and wanting more. Arthur makes a noise in his throat that brings an answering growl from somewhere deep inside of Merlin, bringing back hundreds of memories of being planted inside a softly mewling, completely undone Arthur. Merlin wants only to fill Arthur to the brim and make him beg for more.

A sound of dishes clanking together in the kitchen brings Merlin abruptly spiraling back to earth, reminding him of where they are and who is in the next room. He breaks the kiss, pressing his face to Arthur’s for a moment, their chests heaving against one another.

“Arthur,” he begins brokenly, “I have to finish talking to Lance. But you and I need to talk.” He pulls back and looks into Arthur’s eyes.

Slowly, Arthur nods, and Merlin can’t help it; he presses another kiss to that mouth, and that’s when Lance and Gwaine walk back into the room.

Gwaine clears his throat, but Merlin is still slow to pull away. Squeezing Arthur’s hand, he steps back.

“I hope that was a goodbye kiss,” Lance’s voice is hard.

“We should go,” Gwaine looks to Arthur, who stares at Lance with a challenge in his eyes.

“Lance,” Merlin shakes his head.

“Arthur, you should know that Merlin and I have something special,” Lance steps forward. “We’ve been together for months.”

“Is that right,” Arthur replies coolly. Merlin presses his arm to Arthur’s, trying to convey he doesn’t know what, exactly. All he really knows is that now that he remembers what it’s like to touch Arthur, he doesn’t want to stop.

“He was broken and confused when I met him, and I think a large part of that has to do with you.” Lance’s eyes flash with accusation, and Merlin inhales sharply.

“Lance!”

“I’m not kidding, Merlin,” Lance’s face reddens with anger as he tries to stare Arthur down. “From what you’ve told me, and the few brief moments I’ve had with this man, it’s enough to know how bad he was for you. It took my love and caring for you to be able to come to terms with your sexuality and the fact that you can accomplish so much.” Lance pulls his eyes away from Arthur to look at Merlin. “Admit that to yourself, Merlin. Don’t go back to a destructive relationship.”

Merlin’s speechless. _What the fuck?_ Merlin wasn't  _broken_ when he met Lance! Next to him, he can feel Arthur’s body thrumming with emotion. Merlin glances at him, expecting to see anger, but instead finding something entirely different, and it fills Merlin with both confusion and indignation.

“He’s right, Merlin,” Arthur says, stepping away. “I was never good for you.”

“Bollocks!” Merlin denies, exasperated. “And since when do you ever back down in a confrontation?” He turns to Lance.

“I’m my own man. You were there for me, but I did what I needed to do because I knew it needed doing. And you don’t understand anything about Arthur or our relationship. It’s none of your affair if I decide I want to be with him again.”

He feels Arthur move beside him, but before he can say anything, Merlin turns on him again. “But perhaps that isn’t what you want? I’m not worth the argument, Arthur?”

Arthur’s face shows utter surprise. “Of course you are, but…”

“Fuck this,” Merlin trembles, emotion suddenly spent. He resents Lance implying that he saved Merlin from confusion and despair, and he really doesn't need Arthur getting all chivalric and stepping away. He walks past Gwaine to the center of the room, hands on hips. “All of you need to leave.” He's just so fucking tired.

The three men stand silent a moment until finally Lance gives a nod of assent and gathers his small bag, coat and keys.

“Call me,” Lance murmurs to Merlin, and goes to kiss him on the cheek, but Merlin turns his face away, staring at the floor.

“I will, but my mind’s made up, Lance,” he says flatly. “I’m sorry.”

Lance leaves quietly.

Arthur and Gwaine share a look.

“All right, then,” Gwaine says, moving past Merlin and into the hall.

“Merlin,” Arthur says, facing him. "The fact remains that you left me two years ago. You had your reasons, and they were good ones. You may want to go over them before you make any hasty decisions."

Merlin stares at Arthur, heart beating fast. Arthur's right; Merlin did choose to leave Arthur and the life Arthur had planned for them. But he doesn't need time to make any decisions. He's always loved Arthur--Merlin's just had some growing up to do.  

And Merlin knows he's hurt Arthur. The fact that Arthur suffered his sister's death just afterward haunts Merlin. He wishes he could have been there for Arthur during that time.

His voice softens. "I've grown up, Arthur, from that boy that you knew. I know what I want."

Arthur's look is unreadable. He's changed in these two years--he's become quieter. Less volatile. Arthur turns and leaves without another word, and Merlin collapses onto the sofa.

___000___

It’s been a week since Arthur saw Merlin, and Arthur’s been useless for anything except thinking about Merlin and the way he felt, tasted, and looked. Uther has called countless times, berating Arthur on his inability to get anything right at work. Arthur’s stopped answering his calls, fielding them to Gwen, who’s taken to just telling Uther what he wants to hear, whether it’s true or not.

“Thank God tomorrow’s Christmas Eve and we can all have some time off,” she says, handing Arthur the last of the documents Uther wants signed. Arthur presses his lips together and scrawls his signature.

“Father will be home on the twenty-seventh,” he intones, dreading it with every fiber of his being. “His trip to America hasn’t gone well.”

“I know,” Gwen replies. “He’s told me.” She takes the papers back.

“Will you join Elena and me for Christmas dinner, Arthur? It will only be the two of us and Elena’s father.”

Arthur glances up at her. “That’s kind of you, Gwen, but no.”

Gwen sighs. “Arthur…”

“Gwen, don’t.” Arthur’s voice is sharper than he means it to be, but he can’t stand the pity. Gwen quietly leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Shit,” Arthur swears, getting up from his desk and going to the window. He stares at the university in the distance, thinking about Merlin and how they’d left things. He can’t help it that he happened to agree with Lance that Merlin deserves someone who can make him happy. Isn’t that what love is? Wanting the best for someone else?

After seeing Lance—how handsome, calm, and steady he seems—although a bit of a douchebag--Arthur feels sure that Merlin would be better off with him. He’s imagined dozens of times the two of them making up after the scene in Merlin’s living room, in spite of what Merlin told Lance about having made up his mind. Arthur’s even gone so far as to torture himself with images of their make-up sex.

“Fuck it!” Arthur curses again and, grabbing his coat, leaves the office, sweeping by Gwen’s desk without a word.

He goes to a nearby pub and orders a drink, scowling at the tawdry attempts at Christmas decorations strewn about the place. His phone vibrates, and he glances at it. Gwaine. Of course. His friend hasn’t stopped checking up on him since that night at Merlin’s.

He taps out a message that he’s left work early, then adds, **Fancy a shag?** and presses Send.

A moment later his mobile rings.

“Is that a yes?” Arthur asks in lieu of a greeting.

“Why are you getting pissed in the middle of the day?” Gwaine asks.

“Not the words I want to hear,” Arthur replies, sipping his drink.

“Arthur…”

“ _Gwaine_ ,” Arthur mimics, glancing about the pub. There’s a bloke who isn’t too bad sitting in the corner. “If you don’t take me up on it, I’ve spotted someone who probably will.”

Gwaine sighs. “Be there in ten. Is it _Joe’s_ near the office?”

“That’s it,” Arthur ends the call and sinks down into his chair, thinking of how it felt to have his mouth on Merlin’s, pillowy soft and pliant. He’s getting hard, and he slows up his drinking, not wanting to be too pissed to perform.

When Gwaine enters the pub, Arthur smiles at him in a way he knows people find sexy. Gwaine pulls a chair up very close to Arthur’s and sits, leaning close. “You are going to stop this, and stop it now,” he tells Arthur firmly.

Arthur’s smile wavers a bit, his eyes zeroing in on Gwaine’s mouth.

“I love it when you’re bossy,” he says, leaning in and kissing Gwaine, who responds briefly before gently pushing Arthur away.

“Arthur,” he says softly, and Arthur hates the pity in his voice.

“Fuck you,” Arthur leans back and takes a large swallow of his drink. It’s only his second, but he’s seriously considering ordering another now.

“Not tonight,” Gwaine replies cheekily, but his eyes are serious. “In fact, never again.”

Arthur frowns, hurt. “What? Why the hell not?”

“Because, Arthur, I’m your friend, and friends don’t do this. It’s beginning to give me feelings for you I shouldn’t have and frankly don’t want.”

Confusion settles into Arthur’s brain, joining the fog of exhaustion that’s permeated it all week; he’s barely slept at all.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

Gwaine takes Arthur’s hand. “You know I love you, Arthur,” he squeezes Arthur’s palm.

Arthur nods. Of course. He and Gwaine have known each other their whole lives. “I love you, too, you bugger. So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, I don’t enjoy being used,” Gwaine says softly.

“I’m not using you!” Arthur protests. “It’s for the both of us…you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy it!” Arthur is suddenly consumed with the fear that Gwaine’s been pity-fucking him.

Gwaine smiles. “Of course I do, but I have feelings! I can’t keep this up forever.”

Arthur stares, mouth open. What is Gwaine saying?

Gwaine shakes his head. “Go and get Merlin, Arthur. You’re in love with him, and he with you, and this whole separation of yours is really stupid. Let’s go back to being strictly friends who never fuck, like we should be, yeah? I’ve met a bloke recently, and I’m going to ask him out.”

“So that’s what this is about!” Arthur accuses, relieved that all the pieces are falling into their rightful place. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Gwaine slaps his hand on the table, upsetting Arthur’s glass. Arthur jumps.

“That’s NOT what it’s about!” Gwaine grabs Arthur’s face in his hands, heedless of the mess he’s made. “This is about the fact that I could fall in love with you, Arthur Pendragon. Easily.”

Arthur stares. Gwaine’s dark eyes are intensely serious. This is no game.

“Gwaine?” he murmurs, lips slightly pursed from the hold Gwaine has on Arthur’s face.

Gwaine stares at Arthur’s mouth a moment before leaning in and kissing him, boldly and with passion. Arthur sucks in a breath, not pushing Gwaine away, but not exactly returning the kiss either. He’s kissed Gwaine plenty of times, but this is somehow different; full of feeling and a longing that frightens Arthur, threatening to hurl their long-established relationship head-long into something else entirely.

Gwaine pulls back, panting softly.

“Do you understand now?” he asks quietly, and Arthur nods.

“No more playing about,” Gwaine says, stroking Arthur’s cheek. “Strictly friends from now on.” He leans back in his chair. “Are you going to be okay?”

Arthur nods again, gob-smacked. He pushes his drink away and folds his hands together in his lap, staring at the puddle on the table.

“I’m sorry, Gwaine,” he finally manages. “I never meant to take advantage of our friendship.”

“I know that, you wanker,” Gwaine nudges Arthur’s knee with his own. “We’re fine.” He stands. “Call me when you’ve done something about Merlin. I’ll be the first to congratulate you.” He tussles Arthur’s hair before walking away.

An hour later, Arthur finds himself outside Merlin’s flat. He knocks on the door before he can lose his nerve, worrying what he’ll do if Lance answers. _You’ll fight for Merlin this time,_ he tells himself, straightening his shoulders.

It takes a moment for anyone to answer, and when the door opens, Arthur’s unprepared for the sight of a disheveled Merlin, a pencil behind each ear, hair endearingly messy, a post-it note stuck to his shirt.

“Arthur!” Merlin’s blue eyes grow wide at the sight of him.

“Can I come in?” Arthur asks, plucking the post-it off Merlin’s chest and lifting a brow.

Merlin blushes and takes it from him. “I’ve been studying,” he replies, opening the door wide and stepping back. “Didn’t expect company, so the place is a mess.”

It certainly is; papers and dishes everywhere. Arthur nudges a bowl with his foot. “What was this?”

Merlin shrugs. “Not at all sure. Tuesday’s dinner, maybe? Last night’s ice cream?”

Arthur makes a face. “Not unless it was green. You never were very neat.”

“And you were always too neat,” Merlin returns, closing the door behind them. “Categorized your socks by brand and colour, if I remember correctly.”

Arthur smiles. “How ever did you put up with me?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Merlin huffs, then stills, looking at Arthur softly. “But I’ve missed you. Even that part of you.”

“What about Lance?” Arthur asks, heart beating wildly. He looks about, afraid the other man might come out of the bedroom like he did last time.

“I’d been in the middle of breaking up with him before,” Merlin answers, shifting his weight onto one foot and leaning against the wall. Arthur just wants to ravish him. “Took you long enough to come back, by the way.”

“He seemed determined to keep you,” Arthur replies, ignoring the taunt.

Merlin grunts with aggravation. “What difference does that make when I say we’re through? I’m not something to be passed about, Arthur.”

Merlin makes a motion of negation with his hand and shakes his head like he regrets the words, and it reminds Arthur of the anger and frustration Merlin must have experienced in their past relationship when Arthur so often called the shots.

Arthur looks down at his shoes. “I didn’t mean to imply that you are.” He reaches out and curles his fingers around Merlin's hand.

Merlin smiles, and Arthur feels something come together. Heal. "I know. I'm sorry."

Merlin moves into the living room, plopping down on the floor in the center of a nest of books and papers, his laptop open nearby.

“Did you come to see if Lance is here?” Merlin asks.

“I came to see you,” Arthur says, peeling off his coat and tossing it onto the couch. He removes his suit jacket and shoes as Merlin eyes him warily.

“And to strip?” Merlin asks, brow raised teasingly, and Arthur grins.

“Just getting comfortable.” He hitches his trousers and sits on the floor opposite Merlin. “What are you studying?”

Merlin turns his laptop around so Arthur can see the screen, briefly explaining the concepts of his class. Arthur listens, commenting here and there, but mostly just sinking into the feeling of rightness of being there with Merlin. He asks a few questions, just to hear the enthusiasm rise in Merlin’s voice as he talks about ancient manuscripts. His mind starts to drift. There's something he really wants to say.

"I..." Arthur starts, then stops, unsure.

"Who's biting his lip now?" Merlin asks softly, turning his laptop back around.

Arthur sighs, smiling a little. "I just want to say that I've been thinking. I know you were Morgana's friend, and perhaps I should have tried to rach you. I'm sorry for that."

Merlin looks down at the keyboard. He shakes his head. "No. I left. I cut the ties. I didn't deserve anything. I just wish I could have been here with you when it happened."

They fall into silence, and Arthur leans back, hands behind his head, a weight lifted off his heart. Merlin resumes working.

When he reaches a stopping place, he looks up at Arthur intently.

“Comfortable?” Merlin asks.

“Could use a pillow,” Arthur answers.

Merlin reaches back and grabs one off the couch, tossing it so that it lands squarely in Arthur’s face.

Arthur pulls it off, giving Merlin a look that says he’s too immature for words. Merlin responds with a full-on grin that sends Arthur’s pulse racing. He closes his eyes.

“You go on working. Don’t let me stop you.” Arthur’s mind drifts, and he suddenly realizes that the music playing on Merlin’s iPod are all Christmas tunes. He finds he doesn’t mind so much, and eventually nods off to sleep, Merlin’s shuffling of papers and occasional tapping on the keyboard a comfortable background noise. Arthur’s so tired.

“You’re snoring.” The words in Arthur’s left ear bring him out of the fog of sleep.

“’m not,” Arthur answers blearily, liking the feel of Merlin’s warm breath against his skin.

“Are, too; loudly. I can’t concentrate.” Merlin’s lips move along Arthur’s cheek. “Why don’t you go lie down in my bed for a while. You’re obviously knackered. When I’m finished up in here, we’ll get some dinner.”

Arthur nods, inexplicably exhausted, and rolls to his knees, hefting himself up and wobbling a bit as he makes his way down the hall to the larger of two bedrooms. He heads straight for the big bed, unbuckling his dress pants and shedding them on the way. He manages to get his dress shirt unbuttoned before he falls asleep, face pressed against a pillow that smells wonderfully of Merlin.

It seems only moments later when Arthur senses a presence in the room, but the shadows along the wall tell him it’s late in the day. He grunts, turning over.

“God, Arthur,” he hears, and he opens his eyes to see Merlin standing over him, looking down at him with so much longing, it’s shocking.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Merlin says brokenly, sagging onto the edge of the bed. “I’ve thought about you so many times…even when I was with Lance.” He laughs humourlessly. “You’ve ruined me for every other man out there.”

The words ignite a fire in Arthur’s blood, and his semi-erection from sleep stirs in his pants, catching Merlin’s attention. Merlin reaches out and traces the outline with a finger, and Arthur sucks in a breath, leg jerking.

“I’ve thought about you, too,” Arthur admits, yearning to reach out and touch Merlin. “Every night. All the fucking time.”

Merlin trembles, then leans down and presses his mouth to the strip of skin just above Arthur’s boxers, where the vest rides up.

“I shouldn’t have left,” Merlin says into Arthur’s flesh, making Arthur’s stomach muscles tremble.

“You had to,” Arthur replies, voice shaking. “I understand that now.”

Merlin’s tongue drags a wet path along the waistband of Arthur’s pants, and Arthur groans.

“Do you?” Merlin asks, eyes lifting to look at him, but mouth still whispering over Arthur’s skin. “Do you understand that I never stopped loving you, even for a moment?”

Arthur thinks he does now, looking into Merlin’s eyes. He nods jerkily.

Merlin sits up, peels off Arthur’s dark dress socks and tosses them onto the floor, fingers moving over each of Arthur’s feet in turn. Arthur watches, transfixed.

“I remember everything about you, Arthur. About us,” Merlin tells him, long fingers caressing Arthur’s toes. He looks up, gaze falling on Arthur’s boxer shorts.

Merlin reaches up and tugs at them until Arthur lifts his hips and lets them be pulled away. Merlin sucks in a breath.

“Yes. I remember this.” Merlin presses a kiss to the patch of pubic hair just above Arthur’s cock. “Honey blond, nicely clipped.” He buries his nose in it and breathes, and Arthur feels pre-cum dribble from his cock. The sight of Merlin’s face buried between Arthur’s legs is almost enough to bring him off. Merlin’s ear touches Arthur’s cock, and Arthur gasps.

“I’ve thought so many times of fucking you,” Merlin murmurs into Arthur’s groin, lips finding Arthur’s shaft and brushing against it. “Of how you sounded when I did.”

“Take your clothes off,” Arthur begs, reaching down to stroke Merlin’s dark hair. “Please. I need to see you.”

Merlin stands, jerking his T-shirt over his head. Arthur hungrily takes in the sight of Merlin’s pale skin and flat belly as Merlin sheds his track pants.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Arthur breathes, and Merlin smiles.

“Let me help you with the rest of your clothes,” Merlin offers, and Arthur sits up, shedding his shirt and vest. He pulls Merlin in for a kiss, loving the feel of Merlin’s cool palms roving over Arthur’s bare skin. Merlin pulls away, and Arthur chases his lips with his own.

“Want to look at you,” Merlin breathes, backing up a bit and bringing his gaze over Arthur’s neck, chest, and stomach, before coming to rest on Arthur’s engorged cock. Arthur feels his body flushing in reaction.

“It’s just as I remembered,” Merlin exhales, dipping his head and grasping the base with one hand. Arthur can’t help but push upward with his hips, wanting those pretty lips to surround him.

When they do, Arthur closes his eyes and emits a sound half-way between a moan and a sob. Merlin’s mouth is hot and wet and deliciously clever, and Arthur’s ragged breathing soon fills the room.

“Fuck, Merlin!” he cries out, clutching the sheets as his climax pours over him like warm honey. Merlin swallows it all down before moving his mouth off and lower to lick at Arthur’s tightened sac. Arthur shivers, legs falling open, eyes staring blearily at the ceiling as he feels Merlin’s tongue sliding over him, then sucking at him, then moving lower and lower still.

“God, Arthur, let me at you,” Merlin begs brokenly, pushing fretfully at Arthur’s legs until he rolls over, and then Merlin has Arthur’s cheeks spread.  Arthur cries out as Merlin’s tongue breeches his hole, setting Arthur’s nerve endings ablaze. He pushes his bum up into Merlin’s face, spreading his legs wantonly on the bed.

Arthur’s lost in sensation, listening to Merlin babble about how beautiful Arthur is between sucking and licking at him, how smooth and delicious and just like Merlin remembers. Arthur feels Merlin’s fingertip enter him, and moans long and loud.

“I never did this to him,” Merlin says hoarsely, his finger pushing deeper inside Arthur as he licks at the globes of Arthur’s arse. He bites down gently, and Arthur shudders with want. “I hope you haven’t been letting anyone else do this to you. Tell me you haven’t, Arthur…” Merlin begins fucking Arthur with his finger, just the way Arthur always loved him to, watching as Arthur responds. And fuck, no, he hasn’t let anyone else do this—never would. Only Merlin can bring him apart like this; only Merlin’s seen Arthur at his most intimate. Merlin owns Arthur, body and soul, always has. Always will.

Arthur may have said as much aloud, he isn’t sure, his cock coming alive again beneath him as Merlin spits and adds another finger. Arthur’s own fingers curl into the sheets as he thinks, _this is what I need._

Merlin’s fingers find Arthur’s prostate and Arthur jerks, crying out.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Merlin tells him. “I’m so fucking hard for you right now. Want to be buried inside this arse so badly.”

“Please…” Arthur whimpers, unable to control himself when he’s with Merlin, who has the ability to reduce Arthur to a pleading pile of jelly at will. He hears Merlin’s breathing speed up, feels Merlin lean toward the drawer.

“Do it bare,” Arthur begs, voice hoarse. “I want to feel you, skin to skin.”

Merlin pauses. “I’ve only been with Lance since I left,” he says in a low voice. “We’ve always used something. My last test was clean.”

“I’ve only been with Gwaine,” Arthur answers, wishing this wasn’t necessary but knowing that it is. “Same…condoms, clean test four weeks ago.”

He feels Merlin kneel behind him, and remains on his stomach, for this is how he likes it best…being pressed into the mattress by Merlin’s body.

“I didn’t know you and Gwaine were together,” Merlin sounds hurt, uncertain.

“Not like that,” Arthur hurries to reassure him, trying to peer at Merlin over his shoulder. “Just…just when I couldn’t stand it anymore. Just when I really needed someone.” He’s revealed it all now. Merlin knows how Arthur’s pined for him. He hears Merlin’s small sigh of relief, feels a kiss pressed to his shoulder.

When Merlin enters him, Arthur squeezes his eyes shut. It burns, because there’s only spit and pre-cum between them, but Arthur likes it that way. He pushes up to take Merlin in fully, and swears his body remembers the feel of Merlin’s cock inside it. Merlin thrusts and Arthur whimpers, overcome.

“I’ve missed that sound,” Merlin says. “The sound of you wanting me.”

“Only…only you,” Arthur tells him truthfully. It’s only ever been with Merlin that he can fully let go, be truly vulnerable. That’s one of the reasons it hurt so much to lose him; it was like losing a part of himself, Arthur suddenly realizes, shifting on the bed to take Merlin in more fully.

Merlin thrusts again. “I can’t last long, Arthur. Too good…it’s been too long for us.” Merlin sounds wrecked.

Arthur meets the next thrust in answer, and Merlin cries out, speeding up.

It’s as much Arthur fucking Merlin as the other way round, Arthur rising up again and again, crying out at how good it feels, cock dragging against the sheet as Merlin plows into him from behind.

“Christ, Arthur, _fuck_!” Merlin jerks, fingers clutching at Arthur’s hips, and Arthur feels the warmth of Merlin releasing into him. If he hadn’t already come so recently, Arthur’s sure he’d do it again. His cock twitches against the bed, and he squeezes his inner muscles around Merlin, milking him.

They lie there for a moment, and when Merlin finally eases out, he presses a kiss into the small of Arthur’s back before stumbling into the bathroom. Arthur quickly wipes his eyes with the back of his hand before Merlin gets back with the cool cloth to clean them up.

It’s dark in the room now, and Arthur’s glad for it, because he’s completely undone. Merlin eases down onto the bed beside him.

“I’m sorry I ever left, Arthur,” Merlin whispers after a time.

“No, you’re not,” Arthur answers when he thinks he can speak properly. “You had to go and sort yourself out.”

“I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly, then. For not explaining it well. I never stopped thinking about you,” Merlin’s hand caresses Arthur’s bare back. Arthur hasn’t moved from his previous position except to close his legs. He feels replete and comfortable, cocooned in safety.

“I love you, Arthur.”

Arthur blinks back the tears that immediately come at Merlin’s words. Merlin burrows his face into Arthur’s neck.

“It’s true. I never stopped.”

“I love you, too,” Arthur replies wetly, and then the dam bursts.

Arthur hasn’t cried—truly cried—since just after Morgana died, and it hurts so much. His body shakes with emotion long pent-up. Merlin pulls Arthur into his arms and rocks him back and forth while he sobs noisily. Embarrassed, Arthur tries to stop but can’t.

“Shh, love, it’s all right,” Merlin keeps whispering, and Arthur only cries more, sobbing into Merlin’s bare shoulder.

Arthur’s chest hurts and his eyes sting by the time he falls into an exhausted sleep, Merlin protectively curled about him.

Sometime in the night, Arthur awakens to the smell of food cooking. He sniffs the air, rolling over, briefly surprised to find himself in Merlin’s bed before he remembers. He sits up, finds his boxers, and pulls them on before padding softly into the kitchen where he finds Merlin frying eggs.

“Did I wake you?” Merlin asks, glancing up at Arthur with a smile that lights Arthur’s heart. Arthur smiles back, shaking his head.

“I don’t think so. Unless it was just the good smell.” His stomach growls.

“I meant to feed us dinner, but…things happened.”

“Yeah, things,” Arthur grins, remembering. “I think those _things_ just made me hungrier.”

“Me, too,” Merlin nods, dividing the eggs onto two plates and setting one in front of Arthur.

“Thanks.” Arthur picks up the fork Merlin hands him and digs in.

“Do you have plans for today?” Merlin asks, and it takes Arthur a moment to remember that it’s Christmas Eve.

“I normally like to forget what day it is,” Arthur replies, accepting the glass of orange juice Merlin hands him with a wan smile. His last bite suddenly tastes like dust in his mouth, and he drains the glass.

Merlin nods his understanding.

“I was just about to take a shower,” Merlin replies, finishing off his eggs. “Care to join me?”

Arthur can’t refuse, and wet and soapy, they make love under the warm spray, Merlin wrapped around Arthur, Arthur buried deep inside him as they kiss one another senseless until the water turns cool and Arthur has to shut it off before pressing Merlin to the wall and thrusting to completion.

They’re both wrinkled and exhausted when they get out. They fall into bed immediately after drying off, sleeping until noon, when they awaken and go out for lunch.

Arthur realizes he’s again forgotten it’s Christmas Eve when he and Merlin walk enter the lobby of the restaurant to hear  _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ playing.

Arthur stops, suddenly accosted by memories, and Merlin squeezes his hand, letting him know that he remembers, too. They stand for a few moments, listening, Merlin's arms wrapped around Arthur's waist, chin resting on his shoulder. Merlin sways a little with the music and begins to sing, his voice low.

"Through the years we all will be together...if the fates allow. So hang a shining star upon the highest bough--- And have yourself a merry little Christ-mas now."

The pain in Arthur’s chest eases, and he sighs as Merlin presses a kiss to his cheek. They walk in to get a table, hand-in-hand.

“What did you think of Avalon?” Arthur asks Merlin as they sit eating in front of a window that looks over the street. The slate grey sky promises snow.

“It looks wonderful,” Merlin replies. “Everything Morgana wanted it to be. Leon’s doing a wonderful job, but he wants you there with him.”

“Did he tell you he’s getting married?” Arthur asks, staring down at his plate.

Merlin nods. “I met her. She seems nice, Arthur.”

“She is,” Arthur agrees. He pushes his salad around with his fork. “It’s not that I don’t want this for him—I do. It’s just that I don’t think I can bear to see the three of them together."

Merlin nods, watching Arthur's face. “It must be difficult. But what would Morgana want?”

“She’d want him to be happy,” Arthur says immediately. “She’d want her daughter to have a mother.”

“Well, then,” Merlin says. “Maybe it will get easier with time.”

Arthur looks out at the row of stores across the street. “Perhaps there’s something in that toy shop that I could get Morgan for Christmas,” he ventures.

“I’m sure there is,” Merlin smiles.

___000___

To say that Leon’s surprised to see Merlin and Arthur at his door is an understatement.

“Sorry to come unannounced,” Arthur says uncertainly, hanging back a bit.

“Nonsense, Arthur, come in!” Leon practically pulls them both through the door.

In the living area, Sefa and Morgan look up from where they’re sitting in front of the tree. Leon sold the house he shared with Morgana, and this one’s quite different, Arthur’s relieved to note. He isn’t looking at the same room he saw two years ago shortly before his sister died.

“Arthur!” Sefa exclaims, surprised. “And Merlin…hello!”

Morgan climbs off Sefa’s lap and stands shyly by the tree. She’s wearing a pair of pale pink pyjamas with white slippers that look like bunnies.

“Morgan,” Leon says, “your Uncle Arthur’s here.”

“I’ve brought you a present,” Arthur tells her, crouching before his small niece. Merlin knows Arthur’s only seen the child a handful of times since her birth, and that it weighs heavily on his conscience. Looking at Morgan, it’s easy to see why it’s difficult for Arthur; the child looks so much like her mother, it’s uncanny.

Morgan holds out her hands, and Arthur places the colourfully wrapped box into it. Morgan looks up at her father, who nods to her.

“You may open it now,” he tells her.

Arthur has to help a bit with getting the paper off, but when it’s gone and Morgan lifts the lid of the box, the little girl squeals to see the pink teddy bear inside.

“It’s so much like the one Morgana had when she was young, I couldn’t resist,” Arthur tells Leon, who smiles.

Sefa brings eggnog in from the kitchen, and everyone sits down around the tree, watching the lights twinkle as they talk quietly and drink. Merlin sees Arthur staring at the photo of Morgana on the mantle, green eyes sparkling into the camera, and reaches over to enfold Arthur’s hand in his. Arthur looks at Merlin, smiling softly before turning his attention to what Leon is saying. Morgan cuddles her bear, inching closer and closer to her uncle until she’s curled asleep in Arthur’s arms by the end of the night.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am you came by,” Leon says fervently when Arthur and Merlin prepare to leave, Morgan tucked in her bed.

“Please come back tomorrow evening for Christmas dinner,” Sefa invites them, her arm wrapped around Leon’s waist.

Arthur glances at Merlin before saying quietly, “We’d be happy to.” The beam of pleasure on Leon’s face is staggering, and Merlin smiles.

Outside, snow falls fast, and Merlin hails a taxi.

“Come back to mine,” Merlin tells Arthur, unwilling to part from him.

“I don’t have any clean clothes,” Arthur protests. “Let’s go to my house.”

Merlin nods, and Arthur gives the driver the address.

Inside the cottage, Merlin looks around, something he didn’t take the time to do when he was there before. He’s dismayed at how bare and dismal the place is.

“Not exactly how I envisioned it for the two of us,” Arthur tells him, reading his mind.

“It’s such a nice house,” Merlin replies. “Why haven’t you done anything with it?”

“I didn’t have the heart,” Arthur tells him. He shrugs. “I’m not often here anyway. I work a lot.”

Merlin walks from room to room, touching the still-bare walls.

“Part of me wanted so much to live here with you,” he tells Arthur. “I wasn’t ready. Sometimes I envisioned you here with someone else.”

“No,” Arthur shakes his head. He stands in the doorway of the master bedroom, where Merlin looks at the large bed that faces the balcony. Outside, snow has begun to fall.

“I’d already decided I could never be with anyone else but you.”

Merlin swings around to stare at Arthur. “But you would have! Eventually.”

Arthur shakes his head, and Merlin comes to stand in front of him.

“It’s always been you, Merlin,” Arthur tells him quietly. “I don’t want anyone else.”

Merlin touches Arthur’s face, thumb running along the sharp jawline. “I’d argue with you, except I don’t want you to be with anyone else, either.” He leans in and kisses Arthur’s lips. “Will you give me another chance?”

The blue of Arthur’s eyes grows misty, and he nods.

They cook. They have to go to the grocery store first, because Arthur has very little in his pantry, but then they roast Cornish hens and sauté vegetables, and Merlin even makes an apple pie.

“I didn’t know you baked,” Arthur says, watching Merlin push the pie into the oven.

“I learned in Italy. Will loves to bake, and it rubbed off on me a bit.”

“You’re extraordinarily messy at it,” Arthur comments, glancing about at the cracked eggs and flour everywhere.

Merlin grins cheekily. “That only means the pie will taste better.”

“Oh, is _that_ what it means?” Arthur smiles back. “Then you must be the best baker in all of England!”

Merlin’s mobile rings just as he’s about to chuck a glob of dough at Arthur’s teasing face, and he looks about for it. His fingers are covered in sugar and milky flour.

“Answer it, will you?” he says when Arthur finds the mobile and tries to hand it to Merlin.

“It’s Lance,” Arthur tells Merlin, glancing at the screen.

“It’s all right. Answer it.” Merlin proceeds to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. He listens to the one-sided conversation as Arthur explains to Lance what Merlin is doing.

When Merlin takes the phone, Lance says, “Happy Christmas, Merlin. I just called to tell you that.”

The day after Merlin ordered Lance from his flat, he phoned Lance and they had a long conversation, setting things to rest between them. Lance wants to remain friends, and Merlin’s fine with that.

“Happy Christmas, Lance. Are you going to your father’s?”

“Yeah. I’m in my car, about to go in now. I just thought of you, and I hoped you were all right. I guess you are, since you’re with Arthur.”

“I’m great, thanks,” Merlin says, smiling into Arthur’s eyes. “Happier than I’ve ever been. Take care, Lance.”

When he disconnects, Merlin sets the phone down and walks into Arthur’s arms, burrowing his nose into Arthur’s neck. Arthur smells of his familiar aftershave, and Merlin closes his eyes, taking it in. Arthur’s arms around him feel so good, Merlin wants to cry.

“We’ll buy some paintings for the walls,” he says after a moment, and Arthur’s arms tighten around him. Merlin feels Arthur swallow against his cheek.

Merlin pulls back and looks into Arthur’s face. “You’ll tell your father to sod off and go work for Avalon, yeah?”

Arthur’s face is pinched with emotion. He nods wordlessly, moving to press his mouth to Merlin’s in a warm, inviting kiss that conveys Arthur’s feelings more than anything he could possibly say.

They build a fire in the fireplace and eat dinner in front of it, lying on blankets, pillows bunched under their heads, talking about the last two years.

“I learned a lot about myself in Italy,” Merlin tells Arthur as he slowly rubs his hand over Arthur’s bare chest, for they’d both stripped off their shirts after having spilled sauce on themselves. Arthur pulls Merlin into the crook of his arm. They lie in front of the fire, watching the flames dance and sipping wine.

“I think I needed the time on my own,” Merlin adds.

“Not a day went by that I didn’t miss you,” Arthur tells him. “But a part of me understood. I didn’t expect to see you again, though.”

“I tried to call you after I left,” Merlin moves to press his lips to the soft skin by the crease under Arthur’s arm. “I couldn’t reach you.”

“I hid away from everyone after Morgana’s death,” Arthur admits, glancing down at Merlin. “What would you have said?”

“I just wanted to know you were all right,” Merlin replies. “Then, the more time that went by, I convinced myself you had moved on. I was kind of hiding myself, staying in Italy and avoiding my mum. When I came back, Lance convinced me that I had to face her. It felt good to finally do it.”

“How did she react?” Arthur asks, setting their wine glasses on the hearth.

“I don’t think she was all that surprised, to tell the truth,” Merlin replies. “My uncle was disapproving, but I don’t mind so much what he thinks.” He sighs. “All in all, it just felt good to get it in the open. I spoke to Mum just before you came over to mine. She’s spending the day with my cousins from Berkshire.”

Arthur trails his fingers down Merlin’s arm, and Merlin is suddenly so full of want, he grows hard.

“What if I hadn’t been here, Merlin?” Arthur asks. “Would you have stayed with Lance?”

Merlin considers this. “For a time, I think. But I’d already begun to feel a little smothered. Lance is a caretaker, and I don’t want to be taken care of.” He leans down and presses a kiss to Arthur’s temple. “I would’ve gone off to find you, eventually. All I’ve thought about is you since I came back to Camelot. Even before that. You have never been very far from my thoughts since the day I left, Arthur.”

Arthur turns his head, catching Merlin’s mouth in a kiss that goes on for a long time, becoming deeper and more intimate until Merlin groans and crawls over Arthur, pressing him down into the floor with his body.

Arthur’s hands come around to grip Merlin’s arse as Merlin grinds his erection against Arthur’s answering arousal through the fabric of their trousers.

“Let’s get these clothes off,” Merlin says into Arthur’s mouth, and before long they’re both naked in front of the fire, Arthur lowering himself onto Merlin, who’s used the butter from his plate to slick himself up.

Arthur looks beautiful like this, all hard planes of his body, small nipples and jutting hipbones, flushed cock waving between them. Merlin feels Arthur sliding over him like a glove and takes a deep breath. Then it’s slow and easy, their eyes meeting and latching on, as they listen to the fire crackling and their breathing growing heavier and faster as their bodies undulate together. Merlin reaches to tug at Arthur’s cock, and Arthur moans, speeding up the rhythm of his hips. Merlin thrusts up, and suddenly they’re both coming; Merlin’s orgasm sprinkling over him like summer rain, Arthur spilling white droplets on Merlin’s chest.

Merlin sighs contentedly, tugging Arthur down into a kiss, telling him over and over again how much he loves him. “So much. So, so much, Arthur,” until Arthur laughs.

They settle down together, Arthur pulling a throw down from the couch to cover them. The clock over the mantle strikes midnight.

“Happy Christmas, Merlin,” Arthur says sleepily, and then his eyes widen as though he’s surprised at himself.

“Happy Christmas, Arthur,” Merlin tells him with a smile, understanding completely. He gently kisses Arthur’s eyes, nose, and mouth, cherishing him.

“Tomorrow you’ll move in,” Arthur states, but looks questioningly at Merlin, who nods back emphatically.

“Definitely.”

“And I will colour-coordinate your socks for you,” Arthur says, a sly smile moving over his mouth.

Merlin laughs. “I expect you will. Some don’t have any matches, you know.”

Arthur looks at Merlin in mock-horror. “Oh my God, I’m just in time.”

They snuggle down to sleep, snow falling softly outside the window. Just before Merlin’s eyes close, he looks blearily into the corner of the room where two years ago stood a tree. Merlin will make sure there’s one there next year, and that he and Arthur decorate it together.

 

_finis_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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